The Cork Dream
I dreamed I was at my mother’s house. It wasn’t her real-life house but I knew what it was in my dream. Although everything was white, there was little light.
I was trying to open some kind of cistern. As it transpired, I knew that it was wine I tried opening, to see how it was. It was supposed to be red wine.
I was being very careful, meticulous, because I worried about the cork falling apart. But it wasn’t the ‘traditional’ cork stopper, but a round, flat circle.
My youngest sister joined me. She asked what I was doing and I softly explained it as she leaned over me and watched. I had just gotten the safely out when something fell into the wine.
I asked my sister, “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Was that a piece of the cork falling in?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” I sat back. “All that work and I got it out and then it broke and fell in.”
I smiled at her. “Oh, well.”
Laughing, she replied, “I know.”
Black & White, Gardening & House: A Dream
I was working on a house. The house was a modern place, already completed, but I felt that changes were needed. I thought it was my house but sometimes as I worked on it, I thought it belonged to someone else. But I felt very sure that I had the right to change things
The house was white, a modern flat roof box. A breezeway separated the house from a spacious garage. The driveway was white, paved, and in excellent condition.
I decided to change the house’s material. I did so almost without thought – just done. As result, the house, which had been white, was now black or charcoal gray.
Family came by and asked why I did that. My father, who died last year, stopped by and asked why I’d changed it. Doing something else, I absently responded that it was a temporary move and that I would return it to white and could do so whenever I wanted.
Dad shrugged. “Well, whatever you want to do,” he said. “That’s your business. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
Those were words Dad often used. Sometimes he said, “I hope you know” rather than “I’m sure you know”.
Dad then took me to a garden section. Plants were growing there – tomatoes, onions, carrots, radishes, lettuce. He explained to me what to plant, where to plant it, how to fertilize and water it.
He left, expecting me to continue. I did so but was dissatisfied. He had a lot of starts which he wasn’t using. My sister came along. I was looking at the plants decided not to use. For example, a tomato plant already had several pieces of red fruit on it. I could see it visibly growing, so I decided I would add additional plants. I talked my sister into helping me. Although the plants weren’t as tidy as what Dad had done, I felt they had great potential.
He came by. I showed him what I’d done. Then, almost as an afterthought, I changed the house back to white.
Everyone could immediately see the difference in the house. They all then clamored for me to do that for their houses.
Dream end.
At the Goodwill
My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.
My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.
Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.
My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?
Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.
Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.
Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.
I believe I have seen the future.
Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.
Michael Seidel, writer 