JMW Turner. “Staffa: Fingal’s Cave.” 1832
Prompt: Write a theme in which one character tried to describe a dream to another (perhaps the other person doesn’t dream, or doesn’t take dreams seriously, or perhaps she or he takes them very seriously and is ready to interpret or otherwise appropriate the dram and its meaning).
Delphine sat at the breakfast nook using her knife to shift the tides of jelly on her bread from one crust to the other. Aleksy, fetching yogurt from the fridge, looked over at her with some concern. “What’s up, babe? That jelly isn’t going to go anywhere, you know.” Delphine looked up at him in surprise, as if she had just noticed he was in the kitchen. Regaining her composure, she returned to her work with the bread. “Aleksy, do you remember at the museum yesterday? The Turner painting?” Aleksy’s bowl landed with a thud across from Delphine as he slumped into his chair at the head of the nook. “Honey, which Turner painting? You looked at them all like they were Mona Lisas or something.” Delphine glared at him. “‘Staffa: Fingal’s Cave.’ Well, I had a dream about it last night.” Aleksy rolled his eyes, thinking how he should have just bought her that Indian dream catcher thing on their holiday to New Mexico. Maybe it would listen to her dream stories.
“I was naked. I felt the cool mist of the saltwater spray up on my legs. I looked down and saw the deck of a boat. Soon I smelt this acrid fume – it was from the steam engine. I was on the boat in the painting, put-put-puttering away from the cave. I looked back at the square rock formations that outlined the shore, but they were hard to make out because of the ocean mist and the waves crashing against them. Just like in the painting.”
During the retelling, Aleksy had finished his yogurt and arisen to busy himself with the dishwasher. He had remembered to put the “uh-huhs” in at the right places during Delphine’s oral dream diary, but suspected that there was more. He let out a silent groan as she began to speak again.
“There was a moment of blackness. Then, regaining awareness, I found myself in oppressively damp air. I was still naked, but now I was warm. The sounds of the waves seemed far away. Realizing that I had somehow gotten into the cave, I looked out of the opening towards the glint of the setting sun. The horizon through the keyhole opening of the cave was revealed and obscured continuously by the ebb and flow of the waves. Then, I woke up.”
Aleksy let out a sigh of relief. “Honey, could you bring your plate over? I want to start the dishes.”
Delphine hadn’t heard him. Instead, she continued to sit, directing the waves of jelly back and forth on the bread.
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