“It was just a dream, baby,” he consoled her with her hand in his, throwing what was the blood-stained rag in the trash beside her grief that was now overflowing over the shower stall. It seemed as though the more she cried, the faster the white-tiled bathroom floor filled with crystal clear water, rushing through cracks and lapping at their bare feet, now pressed together.
“I thought we lost the baby,” she whispered, whimpering into fresh, crisp-white linen with his hands on hers as she knelled over her throne.
Down on his knees, peeling the towel gently from her face, he pressed his forehead against hers, “It’s going to be okay. It was just a dream within this dream, sweetheart.”
Lady, a white Pomeranian, and Odie, a caramel mixed-breed, danced excitedly around the two with water up to their knees, knowing instinctively that the hope and love beaming from within their hearts was mutually shared between them.
The dream was saturated in white. Bright white. White tile, white water, white linen, white light, white snow, white vans, white houses, majestic white coyotes chasing white mice amongst snow-capped mountain ranges, divine white hawks leading us down snow-covered roads to a place called home, and white-hot, sensual love, welding the yin and yang together at last.
Purity and perfection at its core – white, a symbol for New Beginnings, which, in Russian, is pronounced Anuva; a hotel in which our hope was first conceived.
The first dream within a dream that I’ve had in years, unfortunately revealing itself to be true, only hours after I had awoken.