I've listened to love's melodies
And felt my own music within me rise
Like a wind in the autumn trees"
--"River" written by Bill Staines
Those of you who've been lingering in the Word Garden for a while know that I frequently turn my dreams into poems. I had a dream last night that I want to tell you about, but turning it into a poem didn't seem right this time. So, I'm just going to tell it. Okay? Got your coffee? Cos this one is insisting that I tell it.
Lately I've been on a 30s gangster kick, reading books and watching movies about them. No surprise that little ole femcentric me finds the women especially interesting. Bonnie Parker. Katharyn Kelly. Legend has it that when they came to arrest her man, Machine Gun Kelly, Katharyn threw her arms around him and lamented, "Those G Men are never going to let us alone!" thus coining the term "G Men."
So that probably accounts for why I dreamt I was part of a crime syndicate back in gangster days. The upside was that I was a good deal younger than I actually am. The downside was that I didn't seem to have any clear role apart from being Head Coffee Fetcher and Girlfriend. But then there came a job that only a woman could do.
It seems the big boss, who I had never even met, was in a hospital someplace and desperately ill. Moreover, the only thing that could save him was to receive blood transfusions from pregnant women. Something about the altered blood chemistry. Consult your doctor. In your dreams, of course.
So I was basically told I had to help. In the dream, the deed itself was conveniently skipped over (Mac? Did you slip me a roofie? Be honest now...), and I found myself pregnant, though I didn't feel any different. A few weeks went by and the big boss recovered. So then some gangster in a fedora and spats handed me a little brown bottle and said I had to drink it. It looked like rat poison or something. I knew what it was for, but I did as I was told. Now you KNOW it was a dream, yes? Since when does Fireblossom just do as she is told?
Up to now I've been pretty casual and goofy about this dream that I had. But what came next left me upset and disturbed after I woke up. I drank what was in the bottle and in a short while I began having cramps. As soon as they began, I realized two things: that I really did have a life inside me, and that I had destroyed it. I was desperate to undo what I had set in motion, but there was no way, it was too late. I felt horrible grief and guilt and loss. I knew I had done something terribly wrong and irretrievable.
As I knew I would, I miscarried. Nobody else seemed concerned about anything except that it was one less problem to deal with. I tried to hide my distress, but I had to get out of there and get away from all of them. When I felt able, I walked outside. There was a rolling green lawn and a pretty iron fence painted glossy black, which divided the house we were in from our neighbor, who was none other than Gabriella Moonlight! She wasn't outside, but one of her dogs was, and he looked up at me like, "Hi, Shay!"
There was a little footbridge or stairway leading over to her yard, and I went over and fussed over her little dog for a while, to make myself feel better. He was so alive, and cheerful, and simple. Some guy poked his head out the door of the gangster hideout, looking for me. I could tell he didn't trust me and was making sure I hadn't run off. And that was it, the end of the dream.
When I woke up, I felt so bad about what I had done. For the record, politically, I am pro-choice, but this wasn't political, it was personal, and it broke my heart. Thanks, my readers, for letting me tell you about it.