She has so many dreams. Far too many.
Surely she could spare a few for those less fortunate, who don’t have any at all?
This one she doesn’t need any more, the one about becoming a famous film star (with her teeth? stupid, stupid).
Nor this one about becoming a concert pianist (almost…no, nowhere near).
As for the dream about losing fifty pounds in four weeks, that dream has hardly been used. It’s as good as new. Someone could make good use of that one.
The dream about Freddie? Can she spare that one? No! She must keep that one! Just in case! Such a sweet, sweet dream.
Yes, the dream of Freddie can go too. What’s the point of keeping that dream? Better that someone else enjoy it.
She bundles all her spare dreams up in an old red-flowered tablecloth and sets off by the sparse light of the moon across the treacherous marshes towards the river’s edge.
When she gets there, she’ll toss the bundle of spare dreams into the swift-flowing waters.
But right now she’s crossing the marsh and must watch out for leeches and snakes, and for where the ground gives way. The bundle of spare dreams is weighing her down. The mud, thick, sticky and heavy, clings to her shoes.
She keeps going, smiling to herself at the thought of someone sitting on the river bank, longing for a dream, just one dream, of their very own. And then they spy the bundle floating downriver. They’ll wonder what on earth it might be, wade in to retrieve it, drag it to shore, untie the knot in the tablecloth… There! Oh my! What they’ve always wanted! Not just one but a whole bundle of dreams!
Thank you for dropping by to read this week’s Blurt. It was inspired by Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Spare.
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