I’m behind the house, walking thru the back hay field. It was mowed and baled up the other day. It’s a cloudy day, gray clouds. It’s calm. It’s warm outside. The grass is the bright, rich green of spring or early summer. Melinda is beside me, we’re walking arm-in-arm. She’s wearing a nice, lite-colored sundress. ‘She has nice curves.’ She’s smiling. As we walk up the hill towards the pond the sky slowly fades to night with the full moon and some stars appearing. We sit down and lie on a blanket together atop a knoll. The sky turns a velvety, purple-black color; the stars seem to glow orange and yellow. There is a poplar tree behind us, and at the bottom of the knoll is a small pond reflecting the moonlight. Melinda tenderly takes me by the side of the head and kisses me. I close my eyes and enjoy the kiss. Our lips part. ‘I’m so thirsty’. She kisses me again. I close my eyes and enjoy. Our lips part and I let my self relax in the softness of the grass. She kisses me on the forehead. I’m so sleepy. ‘I should get a drink of water before I fall asleep.’ I get up and Melinda relaxes her soft embrace. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles and nods. I slowly trudge thru the soft, low grass. Each step is like walking on dozens of pillows under my footfalls and I sink deeper into the grass. There is a fragrant scent of cherry blossoms. I can smell the water and the grass. The air is warm and humidity is comfortable. I slowly reach the edge of the pond and put my hand in the water. It’s comfortably cool. I pull up a handful and get it near my mouth, and it disappears. The body of water disappears, the smells, the night, and as I turn back, Melinda and the tree disappear. I am out in the open in daylight with the hot sun above and dust of dry grassland and desert beneath me.
“Must’ve been a hell of dream, son.” I look up and to my right atop the ridge of the shallow hollow I’m in is . . . is I swear the character actor from some Adam Sandler movies and “Grace Under Fire”. He looks like he’s in some old Western the way he’s dressed, and sitting up in an old-timey wagon with what look to be a pair of dusty mules in front of it. I yell up to him, “It was.”
