“Stay on the black line”, the man calls out. My friend and I look down to see the line beneath our feet. “I feel like a cow being herded into the pen”, I say. My friend nods her head.
We are in what seems to be a large warehouse. There are so many people here. It is very crowded and very bright.
Soon we pass out of the building and into the open air. It feels good to be outside. We stand in an area between the building and an iron fence. “Follow the line” shout s a worker. We all obey.
Finally, we pass through the gate.
“Stay on the Black line”, someone shouts. I look at the ground and see many lines of different colors. Wow! When did that happen? I wonder where they all lead.
I then notice all the other people moving slowly along the black line. Someone ahead of us even comments about getting where we need be on time.
At that moment, I realize a person is walking in the opposite direction. She is dressed in brown and orange leather clothing. Walking with her is a LARGE animal. Its head is shaped like a buffalo; yet, its body looks like that of a dog.
I've seen this animal before.
Where have I seen this before?
“Stay on the Black line”, I hear from somewhere.
I look past the crowd and realize that I know this place.
I tell my friend, “ I've been here before. You’d love it. There are so many good memories.”
As we move forward, things begin to even feel familiar to me. I smile and remember a wonderful time. “Come on”, I say to my friend. “I know someone special here”.
My friend mentions our destination and the need to stick to the Black line, and the time frame. “I’ll get us back”, I say. “Just follow me.” We step off the Black line and venture into a small town.
There are people happily walking to and from places. I smile, remembering the joy. The light feels good upon my face. My friend and I take a street to the left and I mention to her that we are almost there. I even ask those passing if they know the way. Most walk on, saying nothing.
Just then, a familiar face passes us. This person recognizes me and stops to say hello. He seems very happy to see me, and I him. There are now four of us stopped in the street near a sidewalk.
I introduce my friend and tell the young man who I believe to be looking for and ask if he remembers. “Oh yes”, he says with enthusiasm. He then introduces his friend, who seems to be very shy, standing behind him and only peeking out. I smile and beam of pride. What a beautiful person this man has found. I can see, and feel, that these two are very happy together.
“This is our house”, he states after the introductions. I turn to see a yellow house, with brown shingles, several stories high. Each level has a room shaped like a hexagon butting out of the structure.
The rooms lean in all different directions. It seems the house is ready to fall at any moment. I know it will not.
“It’s a fixer”, he says.
I begin to cry, and tell him how beautiful the home is, and how happy I am, that he is the person to reside in it.
How could I know this house so well? Could I have lived there? It feels like it was so…
“You remember the way now”, he says.
“Yes”, I say aloud to no one.
We continue down the street, and I tell my friend we are almost there.
I see the small place we must turn into. If you were not aware, you’d miss it. We glided to the right and walked through the foliage opening.
Inside I could hear the children playing. It was a garden of trees, flowers, water and stones.
I asked the children if He was in. “Yes”, they sang. “Won’t you play with us?” They splashed water about the place getting a little upon me. “I wish I could, but; time is short”, I say. “Will you come back”, they ask. “I do hope I will”, I say. “I have missed this place.”
I pass through the door and into the home.
My friend is still there with me; yet, she seems non-existent.
The room is dark and long.
It holds couches that are lined back-to-back, three deep. A head pops up from the couch nearest the door. A blue blanket covers the head of a woman. She has red hair and light eyes. “What?” she asks.
She looks so familiar and seems to know me.
“Where is He?” I ask. She points to the end couch behind her.
As I move toward the man, I see his eyes open wide. They are the bluest I've ever seen.
He seems older than I remember.
I take his hand.
He begins to cry.
He tries to shake my hand away.
“I had to leave”, I began to tell him. “There was too much unrest; too much hatred. I had to go. I wanted to come explain and to tell you good-bye”, I say.
The man is crying and still trying to shake my hand from his.
I look down to see that I am not holding his hand. He is brushing at the air. It’s a lucid dream.
I remember now.
Everything is clear.
At that moment I awake from my own dream.
In my bed, I began to cry. I can still see the hurt in those blue eyes.
Will I venture back into this world again? I hope I can someday.
I’d love to see the yellow house and those who live in it.
I wish to play with the children.
I wish to again hold the hand of the blue-eyed man.