Another dream...
(I have revised the story as per the corrections -cleaning dirt is significant- that my friend made over the telephone.)
A friend of mine who has never seen Candan in life had a dream of her recently. See if you will find it very interesting, too (comments are very welcome):
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It is a crystal clear spring day. Rain has drenched everything. We drive to visit my parents apparently residing somewhere high up in Mount Uludağ. I change my mind after most of the way and stay there. She walks to the village house on her own and lights the wood stove upon my dad’s request who is busy chopping firewood. She washes her soiled hands in the creek flowing right beneath the doorstep. My dad says: “In our house cleaning dirt is done outdoors, that’s why this is our only water.” He goes on: “ Where’s our boy, didn’t come, did he? Each time just before he makes it he either pauses or goes back. He might also have wished you to find your own way here.” My fascinated friend looks around and sees Candan doing ballet on a hilltop! Suddenly she pops to another peak and goes on dancing. Then to another like a butterfly, and another, and... An incredible beauty, extraordinary grace! My friend hurtles down to let me know, starts shouting “Candan, Candan, she’s over there, look at her on those hills!...”, and wakes up shouting.
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My friend said Candan looked very happy and worry-free.
A friend of mine who has never seen Candan in life had a dream of her recently. See if you will find it very interesting, too (comments are very welcome):
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It is a crystal clear spring day. Rain has drenched everything. We drive to visit my parents apparently residing somewhere high up in Mount Uludağ. I change my mind after most of the way and stay there. She walks to the village house on her own and lights the wood stove upon my dad’s request who is busy chopping firewood. She washes her soiled hands in the creek flowing right beneath the doorstep. My dad says: “In our house cleaning dirt is done outdoors, that’s why this is our only water.” He goes on: “ Where’s our boy, didn’t come, did he? Each time just before he makes it he either pauses or goes back. He might also have wished you to find your own way here.” My fascinated friend looks around and sees Candan doing ballet on a hilltop! Suddenly she pops to another peak and goes on dancing. Then to another like a butterfly, and another, and... An incredible beauty, extraordinary grace! My friend hurtles down to let me know, starts shouting “Candan, Candan, she’s over there, look at her on those hills!...”, and wakes up shouting.
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My friend said Candan looked very happy and worry-free.
posted by K. N. Bayraktar at 14:45
1 Comments:
Kilicaslan, I love this dream! I had such a vivid image of Candan on point and in a beautiful floaty costume, as she is in the first picture on this blog, dancing from mountain top to mountain top—like a butterfly, as you say—such an apt metaphor for our Candan!
Only next time, I hope for it to be YOUR dream.
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