I had a dream.
I daydream of being on a carousel, going round and round as the sunshine blinks at me. I’m all alone and the music is soft and old fashioned. I close my eyes and I wake up in a field. It’s warm and cotton floats in the air.
The wild flowers carpet the field that just goes on and on. I walk and walk. I come across fruit trees that turn into a forest. Nut trees, avocados, pineapple patches. The light grows dimmer and speckled on the forest flower and the air cools. I gather baskets full of almonds, oranges, vanilla beans, chocolate bars, bowls of noodles with chopsticks, and ice cream cones. The baskets are full but not heavy. The deer don’t mind me at all.
The forest ends and the sun is born again, warming my skin, keeping the tamales hot in the leather pouch they’re in. This new valley past the trees is surrounded by snow capped mountains miles out in either direction, creating a fortress, a castle that was all mine, no one could enter. As I continue to walk with my baskets between the giant arms of either range, I can see a thin pillar of smoke rising straight up into the calm blue sky. As I move closer, I see a stone stacked cabin with two smoke stacks and a small garden off to the right. I open the gate to the courtyard and put my baskets down on the front step. I almost knock on the door when I see a note tacked in front of the knocker. “Welcome. It’s yours. Take good care of us.” I enter slowly.
There is a large overstuffed sofa by the crackling fire place, where three large pillows are placed on the floor. There is a bookshelf full of books, new and old, and little curiosities tucked throughout. A record cabinet sets across from the fireplace, full of different music from jazz to pop. The kitchen is small and warm, a breeze moving through the window over the sink. I put my fruit and ice cream away in the ice box and take my leather pouch of tamales to the fire, take “Peter Pan” off the shelf and curl up on the pillows. The wind starts to grow colder and I close the windows and venture upstairs. There is a curtain in the single room to hide the soaking tub and changing area. The bed has two down comforters and six pillows. I light the fire in the room, turn the water on in the tub and lay my tired body into the steamy water that goes up to my neck. As I dry off and slip into my long white pajama gown, it begins to snow in the valley.
As I drift off, Peter flying in soft circles above the house keeping guard, I know that it’s possible that I won’t wake up here in the morning but that it was worth the risk.