*Dreams*
by Vered Arnon
Soft pillows, silk sheets. His mind tumbles down,
spiralling through the events of the day, floating through
strange memories. Soon exhaustion stills his wandering
thoughts, and dreams ensnare him.
Light. Dark. They shift softly, waiting. The breeze is
gently blowing the curtain, alternately letting the
moonlight spill through and blocking it out. Jack climbs
out of his bed and pads softly over to the window. Pushing
the curtain aside, he gazes out at the stars. The stars are
so beautiful. He smiles wistfully.
"You don't belong here! You're a girl!" He's on the
playground now and someone is shouting at him, shoving him
roughly. He shoves back and tries to pull away, but he's
surrounded. They punch him and kick him, calling him names.
He struggles and occasionally tosses out a few punches of
his own, but he won't satisfy them by crying, or even
opening his lips at all.
He's come home after school to an empty house. He steps
into his sister's bedroom. She's two years older than him,
and she's spending the week in the country with grandma. He
opens the door of her wardrobe and lifts out one of her
dresses. It's a pale blue, the colour of the sky on a warm
summer day. He strokes the soft material gently with his
fingertips. Then he lays it across her bed and unbuttons
his shirt. He watches himself in the mirror as he
undresses. He has pale skinny arms. He could count his ribs
if he wanted to. He pulls the dress on and smiles. His body
is smooth and sleek under the blue fabric. He combs his
fingers through his red hair, admiring his image in the
mirror.
He hears the door open downstairs, but he ignores it,
smoothing the soft fabric over his hips. Footsteps climbing
the stairs. Suddenly the door is thrown open.
"Jack!" his father exclaims. He sees his father's face in
the mirror, contorted in a scowl of anger and confusion.
"What in the name of Jesus are you doing in your sister's
dress?!" The man raises his hand, as if to strike the boy.
Jack's mother, who entered the room behind him, rushes
forward to protect her son. "He just misses his sister!"
she exclaims defensively, hugging him tightly. "Isn't that
right, Jack?" she looks down at the beautiful red-headed
boy.
Jack stares at his parents silently, defiantly. "Of course
I miss my sister," he tells them.
His father sighs and lowers his hand. "Get out of that
dress, boy! This is no way to behave. You should be ashamed
of yourself!"
His mother strokes his head gently. "It's okay, Jack. Your
sister will be back in a few days. Next time, you can go
down to the country with her." She rocks him in her arms,
as if to comfort him. Jack glances at his reflexion in the
mirror. The soft blue of his dress his half hidden by his
mother's arms. But he can see the skirt hanging gracefully
about his skinny legs. He smiles to himself.
The dream fades out, slowly. The image in the mirror
becomes blurred and Jack Fairy opens his eyes. He sits up
slowly in bed, taking in the familiar surroundings. The
night table. The lamp. The chair. The vanity. Moonlight
spills through a crack in the curtains, casting a silver
pool on the floor.
So strange to dream of memories, as if one's life is a
movie to be rewound and replayed. He climbs out of bed and
walks over to the window, his bare feet treading softly on
the oriental rug. Pulling back the curtain, he gazes out at
the stars. They're the same stars from his dream, and the
same stars he used to watch as a child. He smiles to
himself.
by Vered Arnon
Soft pillows, silk sheets. His mind tumbles down,
spiralling through the events of the day, floating through
strange memories. Soon exhaustion stills his wandering
thoughts, and dreams ensnare him.
Light. Dark. They shift softly, waiting. The breeze is
gently blowing the curtain, alternately letting the
moonlight spill through and blocking it out. Jack climbs
out of his bed and pads softly over to the window. Pushing
the curtain aside, he gazes out at the stars. The stars are
so beautiful. He smiles wistfully.
"You don't belong here! You're a girl!" He's on the
playground now and someone is shouting at him, shoving him
roughly. He shoves back and tries to pull away, but he's
surrounded. They punch him and kick him, calling him names.
He struggles and occasionally tosses out a few punches of
his own, but he won't satisfy them by crying, or even
opening his lips at all.
He's come home after school to an empty house. He steps
into his sister's bedroom. She's two years older than him,
and she's spending the week in the country with grandma. He
opens the door of her wardrobe and lifts out one of her
dresses. It's a pale blue, the colour of the sky on a warm
summer day. He strokes the soft material gently with his
fingertips. Then he lays it across her bed and unbuttons
his shirt. He watches himself in the mirror as he
undresses. He has pale skinny arms. He could count his ribs
if he wanted to. He pulls the dress on and smiles. His body
is smooth and sleek under the blue fabric. He combs his
fingers through his red hair, admiring his image in the
mirror.
He hears the door open downstairs, but he ignores it,
smoothing the soft fabric over his hips. Footsteps climbing
the stairs. Suddenly the door is thrown open.
"Jack!" his father exclaims. He sees his father's face in
the mirror, contorted in a scowl of anger and confusion.
"What in the name of Jesus are you doing in your sister's
dress?!" The man raises his hand, as if to strike the boy.
Jack's mother, who entered the room behind him, rushes
forward to protect her son. "He just misses his sister!"
she exclaims defensively, hugging him tightly. "Isn't that
right, Jack?" she looks down at the beautiful red-headed
boy.
Jack stares at his parents silently, defiantly. "Of course
I miss my sister," he tells them.
His father sighs and lowers his hand. "Get out of that
dress, boy! This is no way to behave. You should be ashamed
of yourself!"
His mother strokes his head gently. "It's okay, Jack. Your
sister will be back in a few days. Next time, you can go
down to the country with her." She rocks him in her arms,
as if to comfort him. Jack glances at his reflexion in the
mirror. The soft blue of his dress his half hidden by his
mother's arms. But he can see the skirt hanging gracefully
about his skinny legs. He smiles to himself.
The dream fades out, slowly. The image in the mirror
becomes blurred and Jack Fairy opens his eyes. He sits up
slowly in bed, taking in the familiar surroundings. The
night table. The lamp. The chair. The vanity. Moonlight
spills through a crack in the curtains, casting a silver
pool on the floor.
So strange to dream of memories, as if one's life is a
movie to be rewound and replayed. He climbs out of bed and
walks over to the window, his bare feet treading softly on
the oriental rug. Pulling back the curtain, he gazes out at
the stars. They're the same stars from his dream, and the
same stars he used to watch as a child. He smiles to
himself.