O Charity, My Charity

Dream a little dream with me.

Last night, a younger version of Simon Baker (from the CBS show The Mentalist) and I were getting a little frisky in the house from The Sound of Music.

Nothing happened, at least not until we got caught, and our parents forbid us to see each other.

The next part of my dream was fraught with drama.

I was part of a small group that was fleeing our other-worldly city. We were trying urgently to get to safety.

We were traveling in an old Buick. My Uncle Jimmy (my dad’s only surviving brother) was driving the car. There was another man in the passenger seat, but his face was obscured, and I couldn’t see who he was.

My cousin Charity and I were in the backseat. Charity had rescued my Aunt Laurie’s baby (!) and had the little girl wrapped up tightly against her.

Uncle Jimmy was driving at breakneck speed, but the flood waters were rising rapidly. Charity and I were holding hands and screaming, as the car careened one way and another, all over the road.

As Uncle Jimmy tried to get the car under control, I was able to get a good look at the city we were trying so desperately to leave.

The buildings were tall and steel-colored. There was a ring of light surrounding the city that refracted gorgeous colors back onto all the shiny surfaces.

A lovely deep purple wall surrounded the city. Water was rushing over it from all sides.

Uncle Jimmy was forced to pull the car off to the side of the road, and the five of us abandoned the car and raced across the street. We climbed into a double-decker bus, and Uncle Jimmy gunned the engine, as we held on to the seat rails.

The baby was crying, and Charity kept whispering that everything was all going to be all right.

Eventually, we got to the edge of the violet wall. Uncle Jimmy yelled up to us – we were on the second level – that he wasn’t going to make it. He told us to leave him behind, and get the baby to safety.

Charity and I climbed out the back window and stood for a second on the top of the wall, the baby still wrapped securely in Charity’s arms.

We stood there in long flowing dresses. The blowing rain and wind lifted the tattered gossamer material into the air, whipping it around our ankles. Water bled over our bare feet.

I gazed at my cousin, so strong, so bold, so maternal. She stared deep into the baby’s eyes and then back at me.

“It’s time to go,” she whispered. We looked down, over the edge of the wall, and saw a turbulent ocean writhing with inky black waves. Above us, the night sky was full of blinding multi-colored stars.

I caught Charity’s hand in my own. She covered the baby with her other hand, and we jumped.

Then, I woke up and just had to write all this down.