"A Dream Inside a Dream" by Julianna Rowe
“No wonder there was a man disguised as all my troubles lying in my bed. Even in my dreams, life's worries found their way beneath the covers. But for one glorious moment, in a beautiful white room overlooking the lights of New York City, I had danced. And nobody could take that moment away from me.”
I had the strangest dream. Not simply a dream, but a dream in which I watched myself dreaming. I was both the woman living the story and the woman watching it unfold. Stranger still, I was writing the story as it happened, and somehow the words became a world I could step inside. It began in an ordinary room, with an ordinary frustration. Someone was concerned that people could see through the bedroom blinds. I assured him they couldn't because the slats were turned upward, allowing just enough daylight to slip between them without revealing anything inside. But he wouldn't listen. I remember feeling terribly frustrated by such a silly disagreement and deciding I would rather write a story than continue the conversation. I left the room, sat down at my computer and began to type. I would write about a woman who could go anywhere she pleased, with all the money she could possibly need. But where would I send her? New York City, of course! I have always dreamed of going toward the big-city lights, those magnificent skylines illuminated against the darkness, thousands of windows glowing like stars brought down to earth. And then something extraordinary happened. As I wrote, I began to live the words appearing on my screen. Yet somehow, I was also watching myself live them. I could see the woman in the story making decisions, moving through rooms, and enjoying experiences I was creating for her. I was the author, the character, and the audience, all at once. I found myself in one of New York City's grandest hotels, an enormous, elegant establishment that truly belonged to the city. My suite was breathtaking. Everything was white, but not the cold, sterile white of a hospital. It was the soft, luxurious white of clouds floating across a summer sky. The carpeting was thick as freshly fallen snow and the furniture was upholstered in creamy fabrics that seemed almost weightless. The enormous bed was covered with a billowing comforter that looked as though someone had gathered a cloud from heaven and laid it across the mattress. Even the curtains fell in graceful folds, like wisps of morning mist.
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But the windows! Oh, those glorious windows! Beyond them stretched the Hudson River and the magnificent New York City skyline. Thousands upon thousands of lights glittered against the night, reflecting upon the dark water like diamonds scattered across black velvet. Far below, streams of traffic wound through the streets, their headlights and taillights weaving ribbons of white and red between the towering buildings. I could have sat there forever, watching a city that seemed to hold a million secrets behind its illuminated windows. And I was rich! Wonderfully, ridiculously rich. I had no worries, no responsibilities tugging at my sleeve, and no reason to deny myself anything. Naturally, I went shopping. I wandered through elegant stores, buying beautiful things simply because I could. Lovely clothes, expensive treasures, packages wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbons. And then, for reasons known only to the peculiar workings of my sleeping brain, I purchased a pair of hiking boots. Hiking boots! And, P.S. I don' hike! I remember asking myself why on earth I needed them. Perhaps I would take a walk in the country, I decided, although I knew perfectly well that I wouldn't. I hadn't come to New York to climb hills. I had come for the city lights! Nevertheless, I bought the boots and happily returned to my magnificent hotel room. There I was, surrounded by beautiful purchases, with the Hudson River shimmering beyond my windows and the soft white furnishings making me feel as though I were living inside a cloud. I was happy. Not excited or overwhelmed, but peacefully, wonderfully happy. For once, there was nothing I needed to do and nowhere I needed to be.
Then came a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood the man from the room where my dream had begun. I hadn't invited him. In fact, I had written this entire story to get away from him! Yet there he was, standing in the doorway of my beautiful imaginary world, apparently expecting to be welcomed. He came inside and began talking. I busied myself with my purchases, hoping he would understand that I wished to be alone. I tried ignoring him, tried wishing him away, but neither seemed to work. How peculiar that I could dream myself into a magnificent New York City hotel with unlimited money, yet couldn't make one unwanted visitor disappear! And then, without knowing quite why, I began to dance. There was no music playing, but I could hear a gentle melody somewhere inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself. I moved slowly, swaying and turning through my beautiful white room.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I didn't answer. I continued dancing, my arms holding myself, my feet moving to music only I could hear.
"What are you doing?" he asked again.
"I'm dancing," I replied, turning my face away.
He stood watching, apparently unable to understand why a woman would dance alone.
"What are you doing?" he asked once more.
This time I looked directly into his eyes.
"I'm dancing with myself."
Something in my answer seemed to reach him. Perhaps he finally understood that I wanted nothing more than to be left alone with my peace. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he slowly backed toward the doorway, uncertain what to make of a woman who had no need of his company, and then he was gone.
It took a little while for my peace to return. I sat beside the window, watching the city lights dance across the Hudson River. My shopping bags sitting nearby, including those ridiculous hiking boots. I had my beautiful room, my magnificent city, and the wonderful freedom of doing absolutely nothing. I decided to prepare for bed. Even the powder room was extraordinary, enormous and softly illuminated, with pale surfaces that seemed almost as delicate as rabbit fur. I washed my face, brushed my hair, and imagined how wonderful it would feel to slip beneath that enormous white comforter. I would turn off the lights and lie awake watching the city sparkle beyond my windows. No curtains drawn, no worries, no interruptions. Just me and New York City, sharing the night.
I walked into the bedroom and stopped. There, beneath my beautiful white comforter, lay the man, sound asleep. I stared at him in disbelief. He had left! I had watched him go yet somehow, while I was away preparing for bed, he had returned and made himself perfectly comfortable. He was sleeping beneath my dreams. And suddenly, as I stood watching myself standing in that beautiful room, I understood. The man wasn't real. He wasn't someone I knew or someone I had loved. He was every worry, every obligation, every disappointment, and every unfinished problem that followed me through life. I had given my troubles a face, and somehow "they" had followed me into the very story I had written to escape them. I had wished myself rich. I had traveled to the city I had always dreamed of visiting. I had surrounded myself with beauty, luxury, and peace. I had even danced alone to show that I needed nothing more. But while I wasn't looking, my troubles had slipped back into my imagination and made themselves comfortable. I stood there for a long moment, looking at the sleeping figure beneath the comforter.
Then I glanced toward the windows. The blinds were nearly closed now, their slats turned upward just enough to allow a little light to enter. Just as they had been when my dream began. Somewhere beyond them, the glorious lights of New York City were still shining. I eased myself into bed beside the troubles I couldn't seem to escape, closed my eyes, and hoped for another dream.
Perhaps tonight I will go to Italy, where I can wander along ancient cobblestone streets beneath the warm glow of streetlamps. I believe I will hear a violin playing somewhere in the distance and find myself dancing beneath the stars, alone, of course.
And this time, I will remember to lock the door... of my mind.
The End The Happy News Lady 💛
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