Clouds of Dreams

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I used to sit at my window and watch them flow with the breezes, moving in and out of each other, circling back, then drifting across the sky.

It was as if they knew I was watching and were putting on a show just for me. They never stayed very long, and I imagined they had to drift to the next time zone and appear over another portion of the sky at their midnight.

I discovered them the night my wife died. I had come home from the hospital and instead of going to bed, I sat in her chair by the window. The one she always sat in when she was reading, or gazing outside into the world beyond, so old that it had shaped to her form.

As I sat quietly weeping in the dark, a glow outside drew my attention. Upon looking out, I saw them. I had never seen the glow before and I thought that I would have being a light sleeper, made me determine that this was an entirely new phenomenon.

I sat mezmerized, unable to move, watching as the purple clouds radiating light danced among each other in the sky above, hovering there before moving on.

I was suddenly very tired, and took myself to bed to sleep a deep sleep.

Upon awakening the next morning, I eagerly went to my front door for the newspaper, thinking someone else must've also seen this amazing show, and found nothing. Was I really the only one to have been awake to see?

I took a walk down to the coffee house where each morning people came and went, gathered, sat sipping and working, and chatted. This was a place where news was discussed, personal, local, and wider still to that of other towns.

After ordering my cappuccino, I took a seat at a table, anxious to eavesdrop and hopefully hear news of the same show I had witnessed the night before.

None came though.

I was baffled as I sipped my coffee, and I left immediately upon finishing as I could tell I would receive no information there.

Walking around the neighborhood also yielded me no news. I must've stopped and chatted with 10 people and not a word.

Once home, I scoured the news stations to see if it showed up anywhere and someone reported it. Nothing.

At this point I had to wonder if it was a show just for me, or if everyone who may have seen it thought they must be dreaming.

It was dreamlike. Maybe I had actually fallen asleep in my wife's chair and dreamt the whole thing.

I would put it to the test that night.

I set my alarm for midnight, but found I could not even sleep. I laid in bed waiting for a while then finally just got up and went to sit at the window.

Midnight finally came, and with it the beautiful purple clouds. They danced their glowing dance right there outside my window, then moved on.

A few weeks after they appeared for the first time, I made up my mind to film them. I had a kind of old hand held movie camera that had not been used in years. I charged it up, rummaged for tapes in the garage, and then took it about to make sure it still worked.

That night, wide awake and on pins and needles, I held my little camera pointing out the window fearing they would know, fearing they would not appear.

The clock struck and there they were! In all their purple glory! And I caught every move.

After they left for the night, I went to the television and hooked up the camera. I pressed play. And there they were! I was delighted because I had somehow thought they would not show up in the recording.

For weeks I filmed them. And when I strung them all together and watched, I saw that each night was there was a different dance. And it was beautiful.

I stopped recording their dance, but still sat at the window each night for the show. It became a ritual, and the deep sleep that followed welcome.

About a month after I made my film, they stopped coming. I felt the loss keenly, having gotten into the habit of greeting them like friends.

I sat at my window every night before midnight, waiting, watching, hoping they would return.

They never did.

Tonight I stand before you all and show this movie for the very first time. I hope you see what I saw. I hope the beauty and wonder stays with you. I hope it changes you.

Like it did me.

Please dim the lights.