ern's dream

I am slightly embarrassed by this writing entry because of: 1-my poor creative writing skills, 2-my lack of practice that has made my poor writing skills even more so, 3- the subject matter being more difficult that I imagined, thereby leaving this dream to be the best option because it was the only one I could remember with enough detail to actually write about it. Also, I may have just written several run-on sentences and I'm not even going to go back and proofread this caveat so I'll quit my whining and get on with the writing. Enjoy! (Or, at least, don't be too cruel).


I am stepping off an airplane and right into downtown Naples, Italy (although Tamilisa, the returned missionary I'm traveling with, is pronouncing it Napolia) where we apparently have a one-night layover. It is nearly dusk so the colors are somewhat dusty and fading into neutrals, but there are a few food vendors with bright blue or red awnings that stand out brightly against the graying light. The air is warm and we breathe deeply, enjoying even the dust that seems to lightly cover everything. I don't remember taking off my shoes, but am suddenly aware of being barefoot and closing my eyes to appreciate the delicious coolness of cobblestone against my feet. As we begin walking toward the city it appears we are traveling with some sort of church group because we begin looking for a place to have Family Home Evening. I lead everyone to a small step-down lounge, thinly carpeted but cozy because of the dark wood paneling covering the walls. Someone finds a piano in the corner and begins an attempt to lead the group in song, but I find myself trying to get away because more than anything I want a piece of authentic Italian pepperoni pizza. And it has to be pepperoni. Tamilisa tells me she knows just the place and leads me outside and down a small, dingy alleyway, poorly paved, our footsteps echoing in the eerily empty road. Looking behind me I see a large Italian woman, about 6 feet tall in heels, curvy and leggy, her hips accentuated by a wide red belt, her short puffy-sleeves and perfectly set hair giving her the look of a 50's era starlet. She is approaching aggressively & talking to us in Italian and I answer back, surprised that we can understand one another, although I have no idea if I'm speaking English or Italian. I am suddenly aware of Michael behind me and realize that she is probably trying to get past us so she can offer her local “services” to him. I grab him territorially, holding our torsos close and turning to the side so I can keep an eye on this advancing voluptuous vixen. As she continues brashly, I push Michael behind me and respond in kind by advancing on her. The next moments are slightly fuzzy, but I am aware that a wrestling match of some kind has taken place and that I have easily won. She seems surprised, but I grin knowingly, darting her a “try again if you dare” look and she retreats sheepishly while I dust off my hands and turn back to my husband. Tamilisa has witnessed this whole thing and is utterly mortified when I begin kissing Michael, probably, I realize, because she is still there as a missionary and I am supposed to be her companion. But I am really not bothered as she steals away and I am wrapped in kisses with my sweetheart.