Cheese dreams

I was curled around something. Like a life preserver around a sack of flour, maybe. I was sleeping and curled around it. I unfurled and discovered it was my niece. She looked older (she’s a little over two years old now), and she stood up, over me. I was on the ground just then and kind of frozen. She looked me over and waved goodye. She was gone when I stood up. I waited for a bit, then waved goodbye and walked away toward some mountains. They looked like the green ones near my neighborhood with houses lined up all along the ridge. I walked into those mountains and stopped being a person.

It’s dawn, or is it dusk? We’re gathered round a fire on the beach. It’s some fuzzy people who turn out to be my brothers. They are still, quiet. We watch the fire for clues. It’s meant to reveal important things but it’s not. We watch until it’s bright out and the fire can no longer help. I kick sand onto the embers and walk back toward a sand parking lot adjacent to the beach. We each get into our cars and drive away.

He was driving a truck and I was in the passenger seat. My dad drove into a gully road with high cliffs and houses on both sides. I was staring out at them, watching for people in the steep yards but no one ever went outside. The houses were perched on long posts that were driven into the cliffs. We were moving too quickly to make sense of details. We eventually came out the other end of the gully and found a flat, empty lot that went on to the edge of everything. He turned off the road and pulled over next to a square painted onto the asphalt. We swept it clean with push brooms.

My mom is young, exactly like the photo from a wedding in the seventies. Her hair is curled up and she wears blue eyeshadow. She sits on a bar seat inside a Starbucks, looking through the window. At this point it might matter that she’s looking out at a parking lot full of cars. I’m not there but I can see her like I’m standing next to her. She’s wearing the makeup but her cheeks are also shiny from tears, though she’s not crying openly. She drinks coffee with that paper sleeve deal around the cup and then smiles. She looks so happy that I start to cry. My mom turns toward me and hugs me, though I’m still not there. She walks outside with her coffee and disappears into the cars.