Just a Dream? ( Archived) (5)

Sweat running down my forearms and face, I curse, wiping the swelter from my brow as it leaks into my eyes. The sun is pounding down upon my head and my clothes are soaked as though I was swimming all day long. A gust of wind rises and carries a swath of dust that carelessly covers my face and arms in streaks of grey. The humming scream of the machine whirs is my head drowning out the peaceful sounds of nature.
The top of the bluff where I stand, overlooks a wondrous Eden filled with tiny figures frolicking in and on the river’s edge. Even from the distance I can see the most glorious angel lying with her shades and a wide-brimmed hat on her hammock between two trees. Relaxed, yet aware of the children who play all about her, and of course the fishing pole lodged in the fork of a slender branch thrust into the ground a few feet away.
A loud snapping sound tears me from my reverie, and I turn just in time to see a length of metal hurtling toward my head from the machinery, which is now howling in outrage from a lack of water. I throw myself to the ground in a heap of dust and cuttings narrowly avoiding the rod as it plummets over the edge of the hill. Reaching up, I stop the machine before it does more damage, and survey the scene. Filthy with rage I stomp off the bluff to race down the trail back to the aerie of the angels.
After a few moments the sounds of children in full flight slam into my ears knowing that just over the next rise they will surround me with innocent questions. Aware of the mask of irritation from the machine’s breakdown I draw a smile to my face knowing what lies ahead. As certain as the sunrise I am mobbed just as I crest the last hill. Carrying the youngest and with the others in tow, I head off seeking desperately for the vision, which will make everything better. She never runs to me, and always has the calm of a catnap, but this time when I turn the last treed corner, her hammock lies empty. Curious but not surprised I shoo the children off as best I can and head for the shed to find materials for the drill to run again. The children are like a pack of puppies always at arm’s length and filled with more questions than a court case.
Rummaging through boxes looking for the object I need to continue working I notice that she has still not arrived. Standing to stretch, I head for the doorway to see that her hammock yet lies empty and there is no sign of her. Smiling at her mischief I look at our eldest son and ask him to look for her in the house. He runs off with his younger brother in tow. The two girls are chasing butterflies and their youngest brother is heading back to me, upset that he cannot keep up with them. Hoisting him up in the air he screams with delight and wraps his arms around my neck. Pulling him away I notice that much of the dirt on my body has mysteriously transferred to his face and shirt. Knowing that it is much too late to worry I let him hold tight to my neck and bend to the ground where he regains his feet. He of course hammers me with a barrage of questions, “What’cha doin’? What’cha lookin’ for? When are you coming swimming with us? What’s for dinner?” Until I tell him what it is that I need. He starts looking in earnest and I am drawn to sounds beyond the doorway. The girls suddenly march right up to their brother and take him by the hand, he fights to stay but they show him a beautiful yellow and black butterfly that they have captured in a jar and he is mesmerized.

Standing in the doorway, I see them all heading for the doorway of the house, which is of course wide open thanks to the eldest two boys. Out of the corner of my eye I see the fishing rod suddenly arch toward the river and instinct has me half way to it before I know I have left the shed. Stumbling on the ground as I tear after the rod, I still look about to see her face. Concern beginning to play at the edges of my mind, knowing that she would never leave the children or the rod for long. Just as I reach the hammock the twig snaps and the rod begins its course into the river. Lunging and diving I grab the cork handle and eat a mouthful of sand for my efforts. The rod lurches very convincingly toward the river and I know that whatever has the other end is quite serious. Drawing up to my feet my thumb desperately loosening the drag, I reef back on the rod to test the weight of the hunter on the other end. Astonishingly enough I do not even budge it, and my heart races with anticipation. The only dismay in my heart is that by rights this catch belongs not to me but the one I Love and I feel for a moment like a thief. Bracing my feet I begin the game which ends in victory for only one. After a few minutes I am confused by the fish’s lack of running, it seems to just pull and hold in the same spot. Wondering if the line is caught on some rock or log between the two of us I start for the water and wade in up to my knees searching for some sign all the while the line lunging against my hands.
The line goes limp suddenly and I see a bubbling eddy ahead just on the edge of my vision. Looking up I see raven gossamer swirling in the headwaters, and the unmatched creamy skin of the only angel who could ever hold my heart. Her perfect face rises out of the water drawn tight with a smile that threatens to burst into open laughter at the look of confusion on my own face. One strong slender hand rises from the water at her side to wave a hook-less lure, and she starts laughing as if in the throes of the grandest joke ever.
She casually wades towards me and the rod is soon forgotten as her glistening breasts bounce on the waves hypnotizing my eyes. Like a robot I find myself taking steps toward her without thought. Arms wrap around my neck and a hand wipes the dirt from my face and then I see her eyes staring into mine and I am completely lost just like every time I have ever peered into their depths. She pulls my head down and brushes my lips with her own, whispering as a gentle gust of her breath under my nose. I cannot hear her words as the scent captivates my brain completely. She pushes me gently back with her arms making me walk backwards through the water and I do not resist as her hips come into view swaying as they shed streams of water to each side. Caught up in the vision that steals my will each time I see it, I stumble and trip on a rock and fall backwards into the water. Eyes wide open I see her reaching for me with her whole body and find her suddenly tight against my own. Rather than struggle to surface I embrace her soft curves and seek her mouth with my own. She bites my lip and pulls back gently but firmly so that my head lifts from below the waves. Her hands on my cheeks guide me back to my feet and she leaps into my arms.
Turning I see the children rushing towards the shore smiles on their knowing faces, as I rise dripping out of the water with my angel in my arms, her own tight around my neck.

bump just to bury that obnoxious thread...

Mark only you could write this so vividly you could make a lot of money writing like this.
I has all the elements nececesarry for a good romance book.

I never dream anymore wished I did, always had nice dreams.
And then just before it really promised to be great, yeah wake up. Bummer!