[Critique Group 1] leonard's comments on Martia's piece

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

You have done a good job of  describing  the confusion that is involved in the dreamworld.  All the emotions and conflictsare whirling around you. 



It all seems jumbled together  



and terribly difficult to make sense from. 



You’ve captured  that very well.




 



 


Living the Dream




 


Good title.




 


Marcia J. Wick



June 2021



Word Count:  697



 



 



My nine-year-old grandson is visiting. Hewatches back to the Future Part II. Marty in the movie is transported to 2015.It’s now 2021. Falling asleep, time and space warp.




 


You might consider giving the date he startedfrom. 



The movie is rapidly  moving out of the awareness of lately bornaficionados .




 


I wake frantic. I’m late for a cocktail partyand banquet, but first I must change into appropriate attire. Others in my groupare departing, heading out while I swim upstream against the crowd, fighting myway into a cavernous warehouse, shopping mall, or converted mansion – whereverit is I am – packed with endless racks and closets stuffed with women’sclothes. Some dresses I recognize as my mom’s, most in sizes too small for me.Searching for an outfit, I think casual one moment, dressy the next. I spot acute top, a dusty rose eyelet blouse cropped to the waist. But that won’t workwith the green and red plaid skirt I’m holding. Perhaps I could find a redcardigan to match the pleated skirt, or high-waisted black slacks to go withthe crop top? I plow through a frustrating assortment of garments that don’tmatch.



 



Is this representative of your efforts to fitin?



To be appropriate? 




 


In this recurring dream, I admire the boldpatterns and vivid colors of the fabrics I fondle. I’m drawn by bright lightsadvertising sale prices. I navigate endless hallways, stairways, elevators,entrances and exits. I wind my way through a maze of rooms and doors, readingsigns along the way.



 



Bold patterns and vivid  colors strike me  as your characteristics.




 


I’m running out of time, although I’m still notappropriately dressed. 




 


This is a recurring dream of many people. 



It takes various forms, 



but it is easy to see the anxiety abut beingready  



and being able to find your class.




 


Everyone else is leaving for the restaurant.Droves of people clog the exit. I hurry after someone I recognize because Idon’t know where we’re going and I need a ride. Although I seem to see wellenough to shop and walk around, I’m apparently aware I can’t drive because, inreal life, I’m legally blind.




 


Yes, I frequently mix my blind reality with  sight good enough to ride a bike. 



It is confusing because I’m mixing knowing  I can’t see with being unaware . 




 


On the way out, on a dime, I turn and retrace mysteps. I realize with regret that I’ve left behind my cell phone, my back pack,my guide dog, and my elderly cat who hasn’t been fed for more than 24 hours.How could I have forgotten my animals? I’m sure that I must have left them inthe care of someone, yet who? And where? At last, on the third floor, Idiscover a kennel that my cat has been sharing with a small dog. It looks likethe dog must have helped itself to the cat food. My scrawny cat appearslethargic and dehydrated. I freshen her water bowl and set about hunting fordry food, wet food, any kind of food for my emaciated feline.



 I wonder if you  are overburden 



and feel responsible for the health problems ofyour family, 



including the humans and the animals.




 


While tending to my cat, I see my father pass byand I call out, “Can I get a ride with you to dinner?” He smiles but continueswalking. Reluctant, I’m forced to abandon the cat; at least she has fresh foodand water. Fortunately, my phone and back pack are within reach. I run after mydad. Without him, I’m lost




 


Without your Dad, yu feel lost.




 


. I don’t know the location of the restaurant. Ican’t drive myself. It no longer seems to matter what I’m wearing.



 



Outside the building, a mammoth hotel I nowrealize, my quest for my father leads me past an Olympic-size swimming pool.The clear water looks crisp and inviting. I join family and friends occupyingbleachers and long for an opportunity to swim endless laps. Of course, lookingat water, I desperately need a restroom. I duck into the Women’s locker Roomand peer into stall after stall of unflushed toilets, many which haveover-flowed onto the floor. Feet clad in a variety of footwear peek underclosed doors. When I arrive at a semi-clean stall, I discover it lacks toilettissue. Perhaps there’s another women’s room I can find on my way to therestaurant.




 


No rest for the weary 



 



I realize that I’m dreaming and wake from thetiresome ordeal. I open my eyes to a world of mud. Light and dark shades ofgrey are punctuated by reflections and shadows. I navigate in a dark world. Ican’t match my clothes because I can’t see the bold patterns and vivid colors.It appears I see more in my dreams than during my waking hours. Am I living thedream, or dreaming my life away?



 



#it is difficult to know sometimes.



 



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