Dreaming Death

I’m sitting at this long banquet table that is so beautifully and ornamentally set. The thick cloth lying out is of the deepest darkest blood red and yet it shimmers as if moving. So deep it looks as if you could just wring out the oozing liquid of which it seems to be made. Sitting on top is our best dishes, almost floating like little glistening golden boats on top of a crimson sea. The candlelight from above gives off enough of a glow for all to appear mysteriously haunting. Haunting, but beautiful in it’s loving feeling. The most wonderful thing about the table is the people sitting behind each of the settings.

My father, at the top of the red ocean, is joking and laughing. “How was your day, Cherry Blossom,” he asks me, “Would you like to go riding tomorrow? I took the whole day off so that we could be together.” His voice flows over me, surging into me and filling me with warmth. How wonderful! He’s the most wonderful father any young girl could ask for. So loving. So caring.

My two sisters are exclaiming over how hair’s luminosity in the candlelight and how the new upswept and downward cascading curls bring out my complexion. They called it beautiful. They called me beautiful. How sweet are they. Never making me feel down or lonely. Their own ebony locks bouncing with each exuberant statement about my new French made dress. The black lace lightening my entirety even more. While, the yellow satin gracefully caresses the cherry chair and bronze carpet at our feet.

Mama glows with pride every time she looks at me. Her eyes’ filling with loving tears, “Where the hell are you?” She asks. Then I begin to play and entertain them with my musical talent, “You lazy child! Get out here and work!” she yells as her eyes suddenly declaring hatred, “Get out here and clean up after dinner!”
The spell is broken. A cruel hand grabs my arm and jerks me back into my reality of horror and into the face that is the baring of my never ending shame and agony.

“Don’t you ever go hiding again!” she bellows, eyes dark and face hard, “ Now get in there and clean that table. The rest of us are going to the theatre and we expect it to shine when we get back!” A violent shove punctuates her sentence and hurls me into the disastrous room.

Looking, I notice the cloth is starting to fade. It no longer shimmers or shines and the dishes are tarnishing. Their radiance all but a faint glimmer in time and in my dreams. Everything is so different in reality. My daddy, no my Father, he loves me when I’m sleeping and such but during the day, he only likes me when I clean and fetch for him. I’m not like his other daughters. I’m different somehow. I don’t know how, but even they are cruel and mean.
In my dream world, Oh that wonderful place, everyone loves me. I’m not part of the help. My room is warm and I have clothes fit for my status. No one yells at me to do anything but what I want. I love my dream family. I can not live without them. I think that is why I am forbidden to dream. Mother makes sure of that. I work till the light breaks and again till it dies. I just want to close my eyes; to feel the warmth and safety that is there. I want to see the floating plates and glowing smiles on the faces of my family. I want to be loved.

I’ll just sit down for a bit now. The room is shining like mother wanted it. So bright is the light. Must go find it. Oh! It’s getting brighter and brighter. I must get there for the whole house will burn from the candles being so high! But how could they be so bright. They never have before! Oh, it seems such a long way. I can’t seem to get there. What is that? Voices? Oh dear me! Father! Mother! What am I to do! Wait, laughter? There’s laughter! They are laughing! And calling my name! They want me to come home! Oh I’m coming mama. I’m coming papa! I’m coming, coming home.