Dip in My Daydream ......................................................................by Victoria Blake

Dip in My Daydream

by Victoria Blake

I sat cross-legged in the grass, a freshly picked assortment of crisp white daisies nestled in my lap, slowly being threaded onto a flower chain I was patiently making. The summer sun was high above me, bathing us both in glorious warm rays and dousing our senses with pollen and that special heady smell of grass that only exists in the summer time. The lightest of breezes picked up a few loose tendrils of my waist length hair, making them caress my bare shoulders in a way I had always imagined a precious lover would do. My beloved house truck was to my back, two and a half stories of beautifully crafted wood, nestled atop a 1930’s bedford truck, stained glass windows casting a kaleidoscope of colours onto the ground all around, I felt as though I was sitting inside a rainbow.

I held the now finished daisy chain in front of me and carefully placed it over my head – settling it around my forehead with a central trail dropping between my shoulder blades and down my back, it too moving with the blessed breeze.

Beside me you sit – always the same. I can’t see your face, but I know who you are. You know who I am. We are meant for each other. I am calm now because you are here with me.

We have been searching for each other for the longest time, but I haven’t found you yet. Hope keeps me going.

I know you visit me like this so I don’t give up, to keep hope alive when my desolate violent life invades and I have nowhere to turn, there you are.

A screeching seagull swooped low directly above me, shattering my peace and jolting me back to reality. Leaning over I turned off my offensive alarm clock.

Ugh, Monday again.

My eyes traced a line of tongue and groove across the tiny roof, down the wall disappearing at the foot of the bed. My head was pounding – normal for me now. A weekend of over-indulging had become the only way of coping. Who was I kidding? It wasn’t just the weekends anymore.

I knew I couldn’t take this for much longer, but I didn’t think I was strong enough to walk away either. Part of me was incredibly ashamed that this had become my life so quickly, and part of me thought I deserved it. I tenderly touched my ribs, and knew they would be purple from the night before. He had already left and gone to work; at least I could get ready for work in peace. I slowly rolled out of bed and along the crawl space, stepping down to the second floor. Opening the curtains on either side of the truck, I could see a glorious day greeting me from outside. Now standing, I dressed and went down the half dozen steps to the kitchen, filled the kettle and set it on the wood burner to boil for coffee.

It was in these moments of quiet reflection that I struggled to understand how I had got to this place, how everything I loved so dearly now held me trapped firmly within its grasp.

We had lived in our tiny house truck for almost a year, but it had been far from good.

One good year before things descended in a way I never imagined they could or would. But they did, I felt trapped and didn’t know how to get out. Or maybe I just wasn’t quite ready at that time. I think that is why you began visiting me – so I could know there was more that life had to offer me – more that was good rather than bad.

I will never forget the day you walked literally into my life. For real. I felt a connection with you from that first moment we met. I began to look forward to Fridays because I knew I would see you and the joy that surrounded our time together was immeasurable.

You were my secret, you had to be – the consequences of him knowing about you would be beyond dire for me.

So we continued our Friday night trysts, with a great deal of innocence, but when you visited me in my dreams there was anything but innocence, just a lot of deliciousness.

We would spend a few precious hours together and then you would deliver me back into the clutches of evil. I would steel myself for another week of hell knowing you were just around the corner. I could live in the darkness knowing that there was a ray of light waiting for me each Friday.

I no longer felt any joy being in my house truck; instead it held pain, frustration and much anger. Very far removed from the initial thrill and pleasure I used to get from being in my tiny home on wheels. It saddens me to this day that the joy was so quickly stripped from my life there. Saddens me and makes me angry.

You became my best friend; and you gave me a way to survive for a year until I felt strong enough to leave, to want more for myself. You never left my side, instead you have provided me with a safe place to fall on more occasions than I can possibly remember or count and I know I owe you my life.

I may have left my truck behind that day, but I have never left the lifestyle and it has never left me. I know one day you and I will own a house truck together and travel this glorious country of ours in it, creating new beautiful memories where once there was only pain.

We will find joy in waking beside each other each morning in our tiny bedroom, with its intricate woodwork and beautiful stained glass. Everything will be perfectly in its place. There will be a wood burner that will keep us warm, cosy and fed. We will travel in it to places that have million dollar views and spectacular pockets of nature will be our backyard.

There isn’t a day that has gone by over the last twenty glorious years that I haven’t missed my truck and regretted leaving it. Not him, but the truck. It was my childhood dream that ended entirely too soon.

But I will dip into my daydream once again.

Caught in the Net

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