Conversations on a Park Bench

I dreamed we were fifteen, and we were walking in the desert, somewhere far and exotic. Maybe the Sonora Desert in Mexico, or perhaps somewhere in Peru. There we were, the six of us, young and beautiful, walking through the desert, almost dancing, as young people do without realizing they are young and they can still dance. We walk through the desert and we can’t find anyone, we are not looking for anyone, we are fifteen, and the dunes in the distance look like salt.

I dreamed we are kids, and play on the swings, as the adults converse while standing without loosing sight of us. We are kids, and the world is small, but we don’t know it. We run feeling free, because we know the adults are looking at us, or we sense it, and we fall and scratch our knees, and cry, and keep playing, and the world keeps getting bigger.

I dreamed we are in India, and we are playing a game that consists of ranking the smiles of the elephants we meet. My favorite smiles with his whole face, as his ears move from side to side, and your favorite barely smiles, but you say there’s something distinguished in that half smile, and you are right.

I dreamed we are lying on the steps at a park, I know we are in Europe, but I don’t know where. Someone says that it is our time, and we all know what that person means; we are not children anymore, we are adults and it is our time to run the world.

I dreamed with a sunset, on a South Florida beach. The sand is still hot, but not as hot as it was a few hours ago, and we can walk feeling the burn on our feet without too much pain. The six of us walk, and no one talks, maybe we listen to the ocean, or maybe we are running out of words.

I dreamed we were sitting on a bench in the park, and we are old, or everyone around us is terribly young, which is worse. The trees around us are younger than us, and we sit and enjoy the seconds. I dreamed we sit, and some of us talk, and the voices are so low they become leafs. I dream we sit on a bench, and then we are out of dreams.