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Assignment One- Question 2

Question 2 of Assignment One of my writers’ course required that I write a narrative about a visit to a funfair, playground, supermarket, a place of interest, my favourite place, or anything that may interest my readers, etc and be very tactile and descriptive about observing my surroundings. I started out writing about my most favourite place in the world, the bookstore, but for some reason, was unable to continue it- oh, I remember clearly the kind of emotions that filled me everytime I walked into a bookstore- I am always most happy at MPH or Borders, or even in some decrepit old warehouse with bad air-conditioning. Mountains of books please me immensely.However, by the time I actually sat down to begin work on it, I was plagued by a dream I had, and I decided to write about it under the purview of “anything else that you feel may interest your readers“. So here it is…. 

It was such a vivid dream, that when I woke up and realized that I was still me, in my old skin, and that there was no man named Jasper, he who had so blindingly filled my life in my dream, I almost cried- almost, because I glimpsed my sleeping daughter in the cherry wood child’s bed beside mine and because it was she who lit up my real, humdrum life, I found a temporary sense of solace that at least, she was mine, and I was hers for this time we had together.Jasper.

His name echoed in my mind. How it came to be that I remembered every single contour of his face, his warm voice, husky and rich as liquid golden brandy, that enchanting feeling he aroused in my blood, every single vivid detail in perfect clarity- that is a feat I cannot explain. It is said that the average person has 3 to 5 dreams per night, with some individuals dreaming up to 7 dreams a night. Not every individual remembers all their dreams.

I knew then, in my moment of waking, that Jasper was my soul mate. He- of my idyllic dreams. He- with the depth of insight that penetrated into my very existence, reaching out to grasp my throbbing heart, telling me in that encouraging voice: “You can do this.”

How could I feel this deeply about a man in my dream, someone I didn’t know existed in this real life? Would I seek the world for him? Would I forsake all to be with him, the man I knew, with the very might of my existence, to be my soul mate?

I was breathing too fast, the emotions rushing at me like a tidal wave, taking hold of my fragile heart, pinching it as it cried out in pain, a deep, intense kind of red-hot pain. I cried, “STOP!” in my head, but still, the waves continued to crash, rending and tearing at my heart.

I sought distraction.

I leaned over to my daughter’s bed, my body trembling as I reached out to smooth a stray hair that wandered to her flushed, rosy cheek. My love, I thought to myself. You are my Love. She was like an angel in slumber, her eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly at my light, cool touch, her small fist balled up beside her face, clutching at her yellow terry-cloth blanket. She murmured something in her sleep and I put my quivering lips to her face, kissed her, as she stirred and shifted her position. My heart ached again, a dark hand snaked out from somewhere within the room and squeezed it, hard. And I knew that the only Love that could equal the love I felt for Jasper, was hers.

I smoothed down my tee shirt, told myself, “Get a grip, you stupid bitch”. My husband was nowhere in sight. I got out of bed, padded quietly to the bathroom and stunned myself with an icy-cold splash of water into the face.  I gasped, threw my head up, looked into the mirror.

The person staring me in the face, eyes hollow and one-kind-of-crazy, face sallow- who was she?


 “You are beautiful,” he says to me. “You will win this, I know you will.”

 “I can’t,” my voice is small. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed. This beautiful man, who would tailor for me the most supple and fitted suits to wear on the reality television show I was selected to participate in. “Jasper, I am fat. You cannot change me.” Oh my God, I tell myself. This man knows I have a waist over the acceptable size 30 (for women), and still, he makes me sound like the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He sounds like he truly believes I am beautiful.

 “In my mind, I have. And you will. It has been one week, and already, you are changed.” He smoothes a hand over the collar of the fitted shirt I had struggled into. Instinctively, I suck in my stomach to make my silhouette appear slimmer. His touch is light, but it burns a hole in my skin, buzzing down into my flesh, embedding itself within my bones. He lovingly drapes a smooth, dark blazer over my rounded shoulders, silently, with his eyes, urging me to slip my arms between the sleeves.

 “You are changed,” he echoes. We stand before a full-length mirror; he towers behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

 There is no fat me looking back at me. There is a lovely woman in my reflection, standing with Jasper behind her. She has dark hair, falling in gentle waves about her shoulders. Her eyes are bright (a little too bright- the anticipation, perhaps), her cheeks are a creamy rose-blush, her lips are parted slightly as she inhales. The power suit fits her perfectly. She is gorgeous. She is a svelte size 6, not the size 18 she used to be. What has happened here?

 “Jasper, I don’t understand…” I blurt out. Who is that woman looking at me?

 “Everything is possible. Anything is possible. You must believe. And I believe in you,” he said. He is hesitant as he lifts a hand off my shoulder. Reaches out and touches my cheek ever so lightly. I close my eyes; I feel the world spinning, like I am going to fall into a deep chasm of nothingness.

 His hand is still on my cheek. I open my eyes. An ethereal glow fills in the room. It is almost blinding. Jasper is sparkling in the light. Like a moonlight crystal, the pendant dangling from the silver snake-chain around my throat. A myriad of colours are being tossed all over the room- flashes of brilliance in reds, blues, greens and yellows. I am feeling dizzy.

 He does not kiss me like I hope he would.

 And then it hits me. In my mind, I am crashing into a brick wall. I am falling, I am screaming, I do not recognize that shrill voice I hear. I am falling into an endless black pit with silver stars, down, down, down into the centre of the earth.

We are chaste. We are honourable. There is no need for the physicality in our world. I am human, but my desires are no longer important. No longer now that I have found Jasper. It is enough to stand here with him, to hold his cool hand, to allow no words to pass from our lips. It is enough that his heart speaks to mine in an ancient language. It is enough to just be. 

There are no losers. There are only winners. And I have won.


 I am in the office as I write this. This is a true story. This is a dream I had last night.

 I am an emotional wreck.

 Never before have I experienced a dream with such a force of intensity. It engulfs me, I am exhausted. I am unable to focus on my work today, and I don’t really care. I spent the entire morning thinking about this Jasper person, the man whom I believe is meant to be my soul mate in this lifetime.

I don’t know if he exists. This is, after all, just a dream.

But I have made my choice.

For no other kind of love will compel me to give this up. No other kind of love: no matter how suffocating, painful, ideal, wondrous, deserving- is capable of making me lose sight of this. So I will persevere, and hold on. My life sucks in many different ways, but she; she gives me hope.

Jasper, I am sorry. You lose.

I choose my daughter. I choose her love.


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