The Color of Thought

“Will I travel to the moon?” I ask my Grandma who is always with me.“You can travel anywhere, my dear” she says. I nod, tilt my head upward to gaze into her trusting eyes and smile. She smiles back, teeth visible.

I listen to our footsteps, in synch, and the buzzing as we walk along the pebbled path near the lily field. We have walked this path numerous times but each time feels like the first.

The lilies are yellow, her favorite color. The sun is setting and the breeze is cool. “Grandma, what are you thinking?”

“How grateful I am to be your grandma and to be on this journey of life with you. With each walk, you seem a bit older and I am happy to have these moments with you.” As she finishes her sentence, she squeezes my hand like she always does and I squeeze back.

I quickly bend down to pick a lily and present it to her with appreciative awe. “For you Grandma to put behind your ear. I hope this flower makes you as happy as you make me.” She smiles and tucks the bright yellow flower behind her ear making her chestnut brown hair stand out even more.

Right before the sun meets the earth, we are back to our starting point, in front of the pale blue door breathing in the last bit of life that will soon fade to stillness.

Her chestnut colored hair has now faded to grey and I no longer want to go to the moon.

I am sitting in my chair next to the bay window with just enough light and a record humming softly in the background – another presence so I don’t feel so alone at this awfully late hour. Usually when I can’t find my way back to dreamland, I trifle through my bathroom cabinet in search of the pink pills, the tablets that swiftly and gently ease me back to slumber, an easy fix (I like referring to simple items by their color instead of their given name). Anyway, tonight is not like most nights. I awoke thinking of her, of the lilies, and the pebbled path, but this dream was nothing like I remembered nor a distorted memory. I was lost in a sea of wild, yellow lilies, emaciated ones that went on for miles, an ocean of ghastly yellow. My grandma was nowhere to be found. I ran as fast as I could, my lungs barely able to keep up with the screams I was shouting from the pit of my stomach. My mind was full of worry and my heart even more heavy as I continued searching for her, not a single soul in sight. I was being swallowed by the lilies as I was shaken out of the depths of sleep.

My husband, being the light sleeper that he is, heard my quiet cries and gently tugged on my shoulder to wake me. I was in a confused state of panic and could feel my heart palpitating out of my chest. He comforted me as my autonomic nervous system returned to normal parameters. My mind however was not so easy to comfort and instead of succumbing to the pink pill like any sane person would have, I decided to dwell on this dream into the late hours of the night. There were a multitudinous amount of thoughts swirling around in my head. Was grandma in trouble? Was she sick? Was my dream an evil omen? Did dreams have any significant meaning in the real world? Up until now, I had never really analyzed my dreams, not like this. What good would that do? I never made any significance of them and their connections to physical existence in the past so why should I now. These were my thoughts anyway. I sat in the pale blue chair with a book open so my hands would have something to hold onto.