Persistent dream

Posted: July 10, 2013 by jennroig in English, Fiction, Women don't Cry
Tags: ,

I can see you, dressed in white, not a bride’s white, but still with a long tail floating behind you. You don’t walk, you float. It’s a persistent dream. And it’s snowing. It’s snowing in Old Havana.

womanI have also a persistent dream. I’m in a boat, a ferry perhaps. I’m out on the deck, watching the coast line getting smaller. It’s snowing and the sky seems gray, but I’m definitely not in Havana, so it must be someplace else, some foreign northern sea. There’s a guy that comes out to smoke a cigarette, he’s a stranger. I notice him, I like him. He notices me, but he just keeps smoking, and I look away.

grayI’ve always been unable to take initiative.

He remains next to me a long while, even after he finishes smoking the cigarette. We are alone, without words.

I always wake up when he finally decides to come closer.


I was in Italy once when I took a bus that would drive me to a train station. That guy from my dreams jumped in right after me. I stared and he noticed it. He came closer and asked me the hour. He was a Czech, but spoke perfect Italian. So I answered in my not so perfect English. He was a medicine student, and he also wanted to become a pediatrician. Old ladies in the bus were amused to see us communicating in two different languages. He told me his name, but I can’t remember.

I had to get down at the station, he kept his journey downtown.

I stopped dreaming about that boat, on that far northern sea. I have no other persistent dream. And I miss it.


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