flames, new and old

[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated June 16th, 1998]

…and, somehow, in my dreams I hear a huge crash — metal and glass — ignoring it, I dream on…

…a flickering light from outside — flash of orange through the blinds — send me up to the window, women’s voices, laughing and talking . . . and I see them gathered around a fire, a smashed and twisted wreckage to one side, smoke from the fire rising through the branches above . . . I run out to comfort them but…

..I’m awake, my son crying in the next room…

…dreaming again, this time the Queen of Middle Night puts in an appearance of an old girlfriend from years past — the red haired dancer. Old flame, slowly kindled, surprisingly warm. Her family home, my son and I just passing through . . . she embraces me, a big sister, a past lover — though she was, in reality, neither. Passing through the rooms, everyone sleeping quietly, I see a black puma chained in a dark corner. It blinks once, green eyes blazing, hungry. I walk away. Slowly.

We move on and, when it is time, I go. Her farewell kiss is surprisingly sweet…

..and, in darkness, I am awake once again.