the edge

I dreamt that I was in a different place. I had to fly there. It seemed I flew there twice in my dreams, the second time bringing more luggage with vintage items. I was staying at a woman's house. I am not sure that I ever saw her or knew who she was. I did meet her daughter though, who was maybe in her late teens or almost twenty. She was a pretty girl on the verge of sexy but she didn't have that edge yet, still a girl. I liked meeting the "girl." She was wide-eyed, sweet and hopeful. I was meeting her just before she would change. She left to go to some event with friends, hair up in a pony tail, big smile and almost bouncy with happiness. I had the cases that were my grandmother's, filled with a treasure of old clothes from the 30's and 40's. I was looking forward to showing the girl.

She returned and I could tell it was happening. She was a bit thinner, and she almost had sharp edges to her now. Her skin was tan, and she had more of an edge. Some quickness that comes from experience defending and protecting. I felt less light about her, but showed her things anyway. She still had the girl inside, curious to see and the warmth that comes from sharing and kindness. As we went through the dresses, jewelry and old calling cards, she seemed to destroy everything she touched. The papers separated, the dress tore as she tried it on... I said we had to stop or it all would be ruined, making sure not to blame her... it was the frailty of the old items.

I started packing the things, and was going to be on my way. I wasn't sure how I would make it back with all of these cases. Maybe two trips...