Freestyle Dreaming

I was in England and Prince William and Kate were getting hitched. I was part of the wedding party. It was pouring buckets and the grounds were slushy and horrible. Everyone was out in their wedding finest, but the weather just wasn’t being a sport. Two miles away, there was an inn. There was food and music - well, bangers and mash and lots of ale - and hot fire and room for all, if you counted the barn. Harry was late as usual, grinning his cheeky grin, and you could tell that William was losing his cool. Kate’s minders had their hands full with keeping her gown as white as they possibly could, given the squelchy mess she was walking through. I told Harry about the inn, and the plan was made - Prince William and that Kate girl would be wed at an inn….

… I open my bank statement and am not surprised to find just how much in the red I am. There’s a pile of bills to be paid, I look around my house and count off the repairs needed, and then do a quick math in my head - mostly subtraction - and find that the money in my account is more than enough to do all that. It’s almost like the bills shrunk or the money expanded without changing the numbers in the little boxes. Or maybe I’ve forgotten how to do math…

… The crack of the cricket bat against the ball in the green wide open fields of Surrey comes as a surprise to me. I see two people - teenagers really - playing at one end. An umpire looks on. There is no one else around. The Umpire turns to me and says that it’s a shame that one will kill the other, isn’t it? In the distance, Sean and Phillip laugh and play cricket…

… I’m running and it’s late. I’m late for a meeting…

… I’m running on the treadmill. The counter reads 12 km/hr. It’s fast. I’m planning to push it further. But I’m getting tired. I can feel my legs wanting to stop. But the treadmill is speeding up. I could be the Flash or I could be a hot mess tossed off the treadmill and slammed into the wall behind me…

… The meeting takes place in the outdoors. The director of the film - a new chap - wants to “feel the space” as we discuss the script. I’m wondering how he knows the space, given that he hasn’t yet heard the story. Then he starts telling me a story - predictably, of his childhood. I wonder why everyone thinks that theirs is a story worth subjecting millions of people to. Then I look down at my laptop, and the words printed on the screen and I see my childhood and heartbreak and laughter and loneliness all tied in to the fictions I tell others. I’m privileged to do so. I lean back and hear his story. It’s not tremendous, but it’s worth telling. Like all other stories….

I wake up. It's still dark. My cat is curled up next to me under the blanket, my arm around her soft warm body. I feel her purring. And just before I close my eyes, I see that all is perfect with my world.

Tomorrow is another day.