The Boys Who Danced With the Moon by Mark Paul Oleksiw

Author:Mark Paul Oleksiw [Oleksiw, Mark Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mark Paul Oleksiw
Published: 2017-11-22T18:32:57+00:00

CHAPTER 16

That same night, I dreamt of a voice that calmed my soul and I kept dreaming of it until school started in September. The face and body behind the voice were never clear. What exactly happened in the dream was a pleasant mystery. There was the sound and the feeling of complete contentment of my soul that followed. There was no time nor space. I could sense the presence of two of us holding hands, one being mine and one feminine, although I couldn’t see her. There was no doubt that it was a girl.

Who was I dreaming of? There was someone there. It was a voice I hadn’t heard and one that reached out only to me. Moony would take it to the nth degree, setting him off on a twenty-day monologue. I couldn’t let that happen. Marius would certainly laugh and only stop to take a break to laugh some more. He would tell me it was just a stupid dream.

It would have been easy to dismiss it in some ways, and much more comfortable if I did dismiss it. However, there was more to it—much more. How many more times I dreamt a similar dream over the next few nights, I lost track. Some mornings I would wake up trying to recall and could not. Then a moment would come and go. A sequence would play within my mind that could only come from a dream. The voice was always the same. It was feminine and young. My age, or pretty close. I couldn’t make out any physical form to go with it. When it played back in the mind, there was something about it that was special—that I could not describe at that time. I did know when I dreamt I felt more awake than when the alarm sounded. It was pure contentment with the world.

I wondered if it was the alcohol from the late night at the park, but sometimes the dreams would come when I hadn’t been drinking with the boys. I didn’t know what to do, but I went to bed those nights with great anticipation. There was always the fear, though, that the dreams would stop one day.

By the time the new school year started, I had gently tucked away this little fantasy of mine into a box with a pretty bow in the back closet of my mind. The last Friday night up on the hill, I was tempted to unwrap the box. I chose not to.

The first day of my senior year, I woke up and got ready like I always did. But that day was different than all the rest, in more ways than one. I had been relieved of music duties, which alleviated the burden of carrying anything more than my notebook. I took a glance at the large radio with its well-worn cassette buttons sitting on a chair in the far corner of my room. It had served my rise to credibility well.

While I got dressed in blue jeans and a boring shirt, I wondered what everyone else would be wearing.

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