Allister Cromley's Fairweather Belle (Bedtime Stories For Grownups To Tell)
  • Home
  • Stories To Hear
    • The Tree On His Back
    • A Nosebleed
    • An Abduction (Of The Alien Variety)
    • It Begins And Ends With A Fall
    • Drunken Boxing
    • His Breadbox Mouse
    • New Years Eve In A Cellar (Awaiting The Future)
    • An Explanation Of The Acceptance Of His Name
    • To Fall In Love With A Tomato
    • An Attempt At Ending Fear
    • The Race To Awkward
    • His Shadow/s
    • Candy From Strangers
    • A Lunar Eclipse (And The Man On The Moon)
  • Stories To Read
  • Historical Assumptions
    • An Impossible Conversation With Emily Dickinson
    • Happy Halloween Nevermore
    • The Naming Of Numbers
    • The First Thanksgiving
    • The Recession Of Wild Bill Hickok
    • A Tale Of Two Beginnings
    • A Possible Salem Witch Trial
    • A Royal Courtship
    • A Duel
    • Trouble At The Lincolns
    • Dempsey Vs Willard (A Scholarly Discussion On Violence)
    • The Condensed History Of The Carburetor
  • About The Belle
  • The Book
  • Contact
  • The Book Drop Project
  • Live Performances
  • Cousins, Collaborators & Conspirators
  • The Mailing List
  • Additional Links

Busby Berkeley Dreams

12/6/2009

0 Comments

 
Allister rarely dreamt in normal life. And, when he did, his dreams lacked panache. No dragons, no princesses, no talking rocking chairs, no adventure or bizarre convolution. His dreams were merely a continuation of the day before.

But there was one day that came before another day and after another day, where Allister found himself in a park on a hill looking to see if he could find the curve of the world. Per usual, he could not find it.

Moments before, though, the sky had opened and relentlessly poured water. Someone up high had been hell-bent on drowning all-people, puppies, pebbles, and park benches. Luckily for people and puppies, the sky realized that pebbles and park benches would survive a drowning. So it was, in a matter of minutes, the storm pulled back. 

But, the flash pour had caught Allister with nowhere to go. For, by the time he reached shelter, the storm would have ended. And, so it was, that in the moments after the clouds had wrung out their last drops, Allister’s fingertips rained the last rain that had rained from his sleeves that had rained from the sky onto the grassy hill. 

And there he stood.

There he stood with the idea (no, the lack of idea that left him immobile) and hoped to dry. And let’s not say hoped because Allister knew he would be dry. Let’s say waited because Allister did not know when. So, Allister stood and listened to the tweets of the birds and felt the pokings of the sun and gargled the remaining moisture in the air. 

He felt cleansed. 

He thought about what it would be like if everyone suddenly rotated around him. Him standing still and sturdy. A monument like the sun. And people walking away would be drawn back, would find a place in the collective circling that had begun around him. 

And the birds would come back, swirling overhead of the orbiting people that had now collected puppies and squirrels and rats and cats and rabbits and deer and maybe the occasional park bear. All swirling, all orbiting. 

And, though the spectacle did not need it, he thought how nice it would be if the tweet of the birds trickled down and inspired the orbiting creatures below to contribute to the song until it burst forth like a full-blown Busby Berkeley musical number. 

And the cool, damp air from the rainstorm would dry. The tempo of the number would pick up to that point where Busby would have everyone kicking high and still higher. And the air would become warm with the high kicks. 

Swirling warm air.

And, in the center, Allister closed his eyes for but a moment and opened them to find himself dry.

Yep, though Allister did not usually dream, he was always dreaming.
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    More Stories
    ​To Read   
    ​

    Picture

    Archives

    October 2016
    March 2016
    January 2016
    May 2013
    December 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    June 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011
    February 2011
    November 2010
    October 2010
    August 2010
    March 2010
    December 2009
    October 2009
    September 2009
    August 2009
    July 2009
    June 2009
    May 2009
    April 2009
    March 2009
    February 2009
    January 2009
    December 2008
    November 2008

    Categories

    All
    About Dreaming
    About Drinking
    A Memory Or Two
    Battle Scars
    Bits Of History
    Family History
    Famous People & Their Footwear
    Holiday Stories
    Human Feelings
    In The Toybox
    Kids These Days
    Learning Of Lessons
    Lost Objects
    Musical Tunes
    Mysterious Beginnings
    Old People These Days
    Plants & Animals
    Riding On A Train
    Sandwiches & Things
    Smells Nostalgic
    Some Art
    Some Friends He Had
    Some People He Met
    Some Rights For All
    The Scent Of Cave People
    The Weather
    To Technology Or Not To Technology

    RSS Feed