Dream of: 28 October 1997 "Older Woman"
I was sitting in a bedroom of the Logan Street House, listening to a record album of French songs or poetry. The sky-blue album cover froze a picture of a young woman with short black hair, the artist. The recording was unsatisfying to my ear, but it was the only French sound available to me at the moment; so I listened.
My mother opened the door and informed me that some children would be let off at the House to stay with us for the day. Groaning under the thought, I walked into the living room and looked out the front window, where I saw perhaps a dozen smiley 5-6 years olds.
I shuffled back to my room, thinking I could lock myself in. Again I began listening to the recording, sorely expecting to be interrupted at any moment by children's sounds. After a period of not hearing the children, I opened my bedroom door, looked out, and realized the children had gone to the back yard, out of ear shot.
Just as I was again about to shut the door, a tall svelte woman glided into my room and remained. I closed the door and looked her over: black hair and brown skin, the contour and appearance of a model. We began conversing cordially, as if we knew each other. When she expressed an interest in my record, I fathomed that she was French, perhaps even a French teacher. I protested that the record was mucky, hardly worth the hearing.
Our words turned to travel, especially in Europe; and I envisioned our traveling together. I cautioned her that some countries in Europe shouldn't be traveled. All the western nations were safe, but many of the east European countries should be avoided, such as Poland and Russia. She should also avoid Africa and Asia, although Australia was safe.
Talking, we edged closer and closer, until we were holding each other in our arms. I caressed her skin, now white, and admired her short hair, now blonde. I began imagining that I was in love with her and that we would stay together. I knew she was exactly 11 years older than I, with her being 31, and I 20. I hadn't thought I would be interested in an older woman, but I couldn't resist her.
Suddenly, however, it re-occurred to me that I was already married to Carolina. What a complication that proved! Could I continue on with both women? Even more confusing was the sudden realization that Carolina was almost 20 years younger than I. That would mean that I must be in my 40s. And if this woman was 11 years older than I, then she must be in her 50s. There was simply no way that I could be interested in a woman approaching 60. My whole plan of being with the woman, of traveling with her, seemed to be falling apart.
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