I remember my mother telling me about dreams she had of saving babies. She felt as though her life's purpose, in slumber at least, was to rescue innocents from impending doom. I wondered where my dreams had gone in the last year or so. They came and went in bits and pieces. I could recall dreams so vividly for most of my life and it seemed odd that they left me for a period of time. Last night, I was saving babies.
A brown river, like the Susquehanna, surprisingly not too icy cold but, treacherous none-the-less. A large black woman was flowing down the river, belly up, naked. Her black curly hair was sticking out of the water with her face. She was unresponsive. I felt as though she wasn't dead, just simply accepted what was happening, and her fate, without caution. She let the current take her peacefully. Her baby wasn't screaming, it was also being pushed along by the water. It was toppling front to back, back to stomach and head to feet. Tumbling it's face in and out of the water. I saw the bottle half full of milk in front of me and reached out for it. I scooped up the baby in my arms and I fed the bottle to it. It didn't need any and I stood staring at the milk, suddenly standing in water to my waist. The baby still did not cry. It seemed to be sleeping. It didn't need comfort, nourishment, or its mother. It simply lived, peacefully.
I was in a building, a small stream ran to the left. It was sort of a house with a dam attached to it. The children in this area played on the stones, hopping from one to the next. I was told directly, while keeping an eye on the kids giggling and splashing, that 10,000 gallons of water was about to come flowing through. It was presented information as if it was a warning but without the tone of a warning. I hadn't a clue what I should do. I did not take the meaning. Should I search for higher ground? No one was budging. I wasn't the only adult in the room. After the third warning, we had all moved to the next level up, while some stayed below. I was asked a tough question, to explain some situation about someone, long forgotten. I took the opportunity to let the information flow out of me, freely, without caution. I was again interrupted to be told that water was coming. A lot of it. I contemplated my car and asked if I should move it from the front parking lot that was at the edge of the stream. I got neither a hint of answer to which to do. I peered out the window at the parking lot in front of the concrete tower and all of our cars in a line. About 5-10 of them, lined up, all black, all bumpers aimed toward the building. I could see my little golf with the hemp leaf sticker about in the middle. I continued my story. A name from my past hung on my lips. A boy from middle school who touched my butt one day. We were in a class that taught us about electronics and mechanics. I was one of two girls in the class. I pulled on a pair of my older sister's jeans that day, a bit tight, but I remember a size 2, light washed. I was wearing a grey t-shirt with pink baseball style sleeves. I think it was a skateboard company, maybe Dawls? I was on the computer, hiding my password, a boy's name that I had a crush on. We would watch Sifl & Oly at home and talk about the episodes in homeroom the next day. Sometimes, I felt ditzy around him because I liked him and would be mesmerized by his stories, forgetting that I was supposed to remember the jokes from the show for the next day. We also talked about Futurama. I think he was a drummer, he would sway or shake his leg from excess energy in class while he drew comics on his notes. We sat across from each other in Spanish class and I would draw flowers with gel pens while he replicated Simpson's characters. I felt something on my butt and I swung around from the computer to find this kid with a yellow highlighter, marking my butt. I was annoyed. I didn't dislike him before then but, I did after that. He put a mark on my sister's jeans, on MY butt! If he wanted to touch my butt so badly, I might have let him, if he had asked. He quickly understood his mistake and we didn't talk much until after high school. I saw him once or twice at a mutual friend's house. He tossed a lemon to his friend, who missed, and it ended up hitting the end of a Mike's Hard Lemonade I happened to have put up to my mouth to drink. I had a swollen lip and I went to the bathroom to cry. I had a crush on the host, who missed the toss, and he had instantly started laughing when it hit me. I was taken aback. The highlighter thing came back to me, the feeling of hopelessness of my crush not understanding how very much he had just hurt my ego by laughing, the overall pain of wanting something you can't have. Or rather, wanting someone.
The inevitable river that will consume me. Pending time only. It will hit me. I cannot say how. I cannot outrun it. I cannot allow it to take me over. I must flow with it, willingly, or be devastated by it.
A brown river, like the Susquehanna, surprisingly not too icy cold but, treacherous none-the-less. A large black woman was flowing down the river, belly up, naked. Her black curly hair was sticking out of the water with her face. She was unresponsive. I felt as though she wasn't dead, just simply accepted what was happening, and her fate, without caution. She let the current take her peacefully. Her baby wasn't screaming, it was also being pushed along by the water. It was toppling front to back, back to stomach and head to feet. Tumbling it's face in and out of the water. I saw the bottle half full of milk in front of me and reached out for it. I scooped up the baby in my arms and I fed the bottle to it. It didn't need any and I stood staring at the milk, suddenly standing in water to my waist. The baby still did not cry. It seemed to be sleeping. It didn't need comfort, nourishment, or its mother. It simply lived, peacefully.
I was in a building, a small stream ran to the left. It was sort of a house with a dam attached to it. The children in this area played on the stones, hopping from one to the next. I was told directly, while keeping an eye on the kids giggling and splashing, that 10,000 gallons of water was about to come flowing through. It was presented information as if it was a warning but without the tone of a warning. I hadn't a clue what I should do. I did not take the meaning. Should I search for higher ground? No one was budging. I wasn't the only adult in the room. After the third warning, we had all moved to the next level up, while some stayed below. I was asked a tough question, to explain some situation about someone, long forgotten. I took the opportunity to let the information flow out of me, freely, without caution. I was again interrupted to be told that water was coming. A lot of it. I contemplated my car and asked if I should move it from the front parking lot that was at the edge of the stream. I got neither a hint of answer to which to do. I peered out the window at the parking lot in front of the concrete tower and all of our cars in a line. About 5-10 of them, lined up, all black, all bumpers aimed toward the building. I could see my little golf with the hemp leaf sticker about in the middle. I continued my story. A name from my past hung on my lips. A boy from middle school who touched my butt one day. We were in a class that taught us about electronics and mechanics. I was one of two girls in the class. I pulled on a pair of my older sister's jeans that day, a bit tight, but I remember a size 2, light washed. I was wearing a grey t-shirt with pink baseball style sleeves. I think it was a skateboard company, maybe Dawls? I was on the computer, hiding my password, a boy's name that I had a crush on. We would watch Sifl & Oly at home and talk about the episodes in homeroom the next day. Sometimes, I felt ditzy around him because I liked him and would be mesmerized by his stories, forgetting that I was supposed to remember the jokes from the show for the next day. We also talked about Futurama. I think he was a drummer, he would sway or shake his leg from excess energy in class while he drew comics on his notes. We sat across from each other in Spanish class and I would draw flowers with gel pens while he replicated Simpson's characters. I felt something on my butt and I swung around from the computer to find this kid with a yellow highlighter, marking my butt. I was annoyed. I didn't dislike him before then but, I did after that. He put a mark on my sister's jeans, on MY butt! If he wanted to touch my butt so badly, I might have let him, if he had asked. He quickly understood his mistake and we didn't talk much until after high school. I saw him once or twice at a mutual friend's house. He tossed a lemon to his friend, who missed, and it ended up hitting the end of a Mike's Hard Lemonade I happened to have put up to my mouth to drink. I had a swollen lip and I went to the bathroom to cry. I had a crush on the host, who missed the toss, and he had instantly started laughing when it hit me. I was taken aback. The highlighter thing came back to me, the feeling of hopelessness of my crush not understanding how very much he had just hurt my ego by laughing, the overall pain of wanting something you can't have. Or rather, wanting someone.
The inevitable river that will consume me. Pending time only. It will hit me. I cannot say how. I cannot outrun it. I cannot allow it to take me over. I must flow with it, willingly, or be devastated by it.
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