A Cup of Coffee with an Old Friend (based on a dream)

A Cup of Coffee with an Old Friend (based on a dream)

The subconscious mind is an amazing thing. It can take me back to a place I have been before. It helps me find something I have lost or reminds me of something I have forgotten. Through dreams my subconscious mind can speculate the future revisit the past or resolve the present. It can take me to far away places or bring back places that have long since vanished. When I find myself in angst I often find myself transported to a magical place. A person I know lives there. This place is a harbor of comfort and fond memories. It was once a very real place but now it only exists in the expansive landscape of my mind. It is a beautiful place that is nestled in the midst of forest and prairie. It is a quaint little house with tan siding and a wooden front porch. A man resides there that departed from this world nearly three years ago. As I reflect on this dream I will continue in present tense because this place is timeless, unchanging and ever present inside my soul. Entering the dream I find myself  on a gravel drive the stones of the drive are gray and white rounded by weather and time. His red king cab truck is parked in the drive. It is perfectly clean and sparkling. The grass is thick and emerald green. The rectangular garden in the front yard is in full bloom and the air is thick and warm like a blanket. This place is in a state of eternal summer and peace. Two large wizened pines reach toward a clear blue sky. An inviting swing hangs from one of the these large trees. I can smell the clean earthy fragrance of pine as a warm wind  filters through the giants' needles. I am sure I can hear a wind chime somewhere mixing with the hum of the breeze. I walk toward the old wooden porch and ascend the three steps. I cover the porch is four strides, and enter the house through a screen door. The front room is dark but I can see a light emanating from the hall. Through this hall I enter the kitchen. He is sitting at his table a cup of coffee in his hand, but what strikes me is what is missing. Cigarettes are absent as are his glasses and his tattoos.  he is wearing one of his signature ball caps, his curly black hair curls up from beneath it. His skin is just as brown as I remembered but not as folded and his eyes are a sharp clear green. He greats me with a smile. The skin about his eyes crinkle. He is an old friend. A cup of coffee is waiting for me. I sit and take it in my hand. "Hi grandpa." I say. "Tell me all about it." he says. I tell him about my worries. "School is just so hard. I feel like I don't really have a lot of friends. I want to quit. I just want to give up because I don't think anyone really likes me. I'm no good at school, it doesn't hold my interest anymore. "  he is listening to my words intently and is drinking his coffee. I take a sip of mine. the dark coffee is mingled with cream and sugar and has just the right amount of sugar. It really is the perfect cup of coffee. The warmth warms me the sweat taste cheers me. We sit at the table quietly I think he is contemplating what I have said or we are merely enjoying the raw pleasure of each others company. After he has finished his coffee he begins to speak. " You think no one likes you but I love you. You feel like a failure but I am proud of you. Everything is going to be okay." We sit is silence some more until unanimously we stand and walk to the door. We walk outside slowly and I relish the blanket like warmth. If it were up to me I would stay here forever but somewhere inside myself I know my visit is nearly over.  Grandpa seems to sense this as well. I take a breath of the sweet country air and then we hug. I start walking down the drive. We wave at each other. The dream dissolves but the comfort remains.  I like to think that those words were really his. I know that in death he loves me as he did in life.  A grandpa is there forever.