Sans le Coq Rouge

I dreamed that we were together again, our purple and yellow faces floating in the blue-painted sky. The same violin that played at our wedding was there, still inviting us to dance. That pony you loved, with the huge eyes and fluttery eyelashes, gazed at me in the old way – as if we were still in those glorious days before the sadness, before the avalanche of loss. Bold blue midnight sang of forever – soaring, swooping melodies that spoke of all the wonderful worlds we would explore. In my dream, everything had wings, everything was flying. We were together.

Can you see what I saw? You always could read my mind, why not my dream? Wherever you are now, maybe your sight is all encompassing, maybe you can see the magnificent whole – the limitless sky, the richness of the blue paint, our joyously floating figures, the violin weaving its magic. Maybe you can see the huge white moon, round and shimmering with light, swimming in the sky, dipping into the lake below. Maybe I am the moon in the sky and you are the reflection of the moon in the water. In my dream, everything had wings, everything was swimming, floating, singing, flying. We were together, we were forever.

“I painted my hands and my face blue, then was suddenly swept up by the wind, and started to fly in the infinite sky.” Somewhere I had heard these words in a beloved song inspired by a painting. Somewhere I too had seen the famous painting. Perhaps somewhere, somehow, I myself had painted it. Somewhere, someday the dream will come again and then again, each time more clearly. I will touch the infinite; I will learn to fly. And we will be together, in the world of dreams, the world of imagination, the world of flight. And this time, there will be no red rooster to announce the dawn.