Falling Again, Again

Then, he saw her in the company of many good people, talking from the veranda, laughing in the kitchen.
_____She looked at him in a manner — unidentifiable. It made him feel good.
_____They stepped onto the balcony, as he noticed it was now empty, and she kissed him in a tender way, so unlike her.
_____He was falling in love with her again. “This is a dream,” she told him.

The music rolled in his head and turned woodwinds into long brass that plummeted, when he recognized that he was really sleeping, and he tried to push himself back into the dreamworld but the coiling notes were already coming apart.
_____He heard her say, “You will forget this very soon. I will treasure it as a reminder of what we once had, before you went away.”

Loss and regret accompanied him on his way back, and he had no way of knowing he was actually entering another dream.
_____They drove to the side of a road. It was an open field in the darkest night.
_____They walked without the guidance of light through tall grass that had a manner of hiding almost anything that occurred to the mind.
_____Cold, stone tablets appeared suddenly at their feet, spaced like marred tiles at intervals of a few paces.

In the distance, there were statues of things white against tree branches so black, they were feeding fissures into the marbled, pale limbs.
_____But the tablets, as they discovered, had names and numbers cut into the concrete and moss.
_____“Don’t you remember any of this? We were here before.”
_____He was filling up with dread and something like wonder. “I always thought it was a dream.” He insisted. “You just said it was a dream!”

They took a few steps. A pool of still waters appeared, and immersed in the murk, a mausoleum was tilting away from them and then disappeared into the depths.
_____This is where they had kissed the first time even though they were not supposed to.
_____When he turned to mention it, she was looking at him with bloodshot eyes.
_____“Of course I remember. You got drunk. And you passed out. Before I left you, I saw the translucent forms of three women hovering over you, meaning you a great deal of harm. You slept right where you’re standing, and then you thought you woke up.”

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Rey Armenteros is a Los Angeles-based painter and writer who has had his essays and poetry appear in numerous literary journals and art magazines, including The Nasiona, Lunch Ticket, Umbrella Factory Magazine, and Still Point Arts Quarterly.