11/9/2017 1 Comment Frank and IOne night I had this dream. I dreamt that I drowned Frank Sinatra, in a shallow pond filled with soapy black water. He did not struggle. I even think I maybe saw a slight smile cross his stony face as I placed his body in the water and pressed my hands against his chest. I watched the air bubbles being released from his mouth and reach the surface only to break apart, and join the chilled air of nowhere in particular. When the air bubbles ceased and I saw his eyes close for the final time, I drew back onto the bank to contemplate a book I had just finished reading, and I wondered what the weather might be the following day. As my eyes grazed the rocky horizon, craftily skipping over Frank’s lifeless body, I noticed a scorpion slip into the pond on a pair of crooked legs and swim out to the center. With the skill and precision of an anxious frog, I then watched him leap onto the sunken chest of my drowning Frank Sinatra, take a delicious chunk from his stiff lower lip, and swim languidly away. Frank’s lip began to swell, it swelled to the size of the dark pond, until nothing could be seen but stretched and blotchy skin. I stood from my spot on the bank to inspect this site, and just as I reached the water’s edge, I saw the scorpion ascend into the sky, not a care in the world. I crouched by the pond and began calling out to Frank, asking if he was still in there swimming, or if the scorpion had taken him with it. The mess of skin then began to sway and tremble, and from underneath the old shell of a swollen lip Frank Sinatra appeared to me, this time smaller, and very much alive. He was about the size of a doll, one that I remember playing with as a girl. He smiled at me and nodded a hello, I bent down lower to get a better look at my undrowned Frank, and as I did he wrapped his miniature arms around me as if asking to be held. I was never much of one for refusing something so small, and so I picked him up, and held him like the doll I had held so many years ago… almost as one holds a small child, but with a grasp more tender, so as not to break any arms or feet. I asked him how he was feeling and he said fine, I asked him if he would like a drink of water and he replied calmly: I have had enough water for many, many lifetimes. With no words to argue I simply nodded and carried him to a platform hidden in a field of quiet reeds. I set him there gently and propped his head on a flat rock, his gaze wandered over the night sky above us, one filled with few stars and many memories. He then began to speak; he spoke of everything and nothing, of himself and of humanity. His voice was of one very far, yet very near, I did not look him in the eye, but instead stared blankly at the same stars he saw, letting his words fill my eyes and ears. He told me that though he had many friends, he was very lonely. He told me that he regretted never truly knowing his mother, that she was only a familiar face and a soft set of hands, nothing more, nothing ever. He told me that he had never truly felt love, that he had only begun to sing of it out of irony, it brought him deep sadness that we had all taken him so seriously. I am deeply troubled. …He lamented… I am full of regret. With no response from me, he sighed and began to hum quietly to himself, a song which I did not recognize; perhaps he was making it up. I asked him if he might accompany me to a nearby mountain, where the thin air might help our minds to rest finally under these dim stars. He sighed again, this time drawing his gaze over the surrounding mountains. He sat up with no words, and he fixed my large head in his small hands, and placed a warm kiss on my forehead. We lingered there for a moment; there were no sounds, and no movement among the brush. With a deep inhale, Frank Sinatra, about a third of his size, stood up and walked slowly back to the pond from which he had come, it was still as soapy as ever. With one last glance in my direction, he proceeded into the water; he descended into it as one would walk down stairs, his small body disappearing just a bit more with each step. I wondered to myself how someone could walk into such shallow water and disappear as if it were deeper than the sea. But before my thought had finished, so had he-- and my dear Frank was forever gone.
1 Comment
9/25/2019 06:53:00 am
I am happy that you have finally met someone that you can love. I know that you are one of the best people out there. I was really depressed when I found out that you were having trouble with your love life, but all of that is history now. I hope that you start making progress with that Frank of yours. You will have to sacrifice a lot for love, but trust me, it is better than living alone forever.
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AuthorAvery Atlas is the author of all posted pieces. Archives
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