Thurles Information

Alexander’s Xmas Dream Girl.

(Short Story from the pen of author & poet Tom Ryan).

It was not unusual for the poet, Alexander McKenzie, to have strange and inexplicable dreams; dreams like winning the lotto or gaining recognition for his verses and prose. However, the dream he had last night, same “sure bates Banagher”*.

*[An Irish-English phrase meaning inconsistent, absurd or being exceedingly ridiculous, surpassing everything else].

Maybe this lack lustre feeling was fuelled by his overactive thyroid, or his over indulgence in physical exercise for his blood pressure. Then, maybe it was because he had lost his ‘Poetry Corner’ page, in the literary magazine or maybe, he simply felt rejected by his own and had lost faith in all humanity. Alexander had never felt so lonesome and he didn’t understand it, as he had always been a positive and optimistic person who had total faith in the universe.

Now with the voices of the young carol singers, filling the frosty air outside, let’s take a look at life for Alexander, immediately before his recent dream.

Poor Alexander had not been feeling so great this Christmas and was tending to give up on the world and its people. Worst of all, he had even stopped writing poetry and prose. Any way that he looked at it, he was a failure with no work coming his way. No news editors were phoning up, offering commissions and there was little point in blaming his stroke of years ago, which had left him partially disabled. He had not been going anywhere worthwhile anyhow, and he felt tired and irritable. The invigorating freshness of a new morning; the sounds of nature in all of its glory, through the persisting birdsong, the fragrances and other sounds of the seasons, which previously he loved; today lacked any lustre for him.

He was not himself this Christmas and even his wife, Mary, seemed infected by this gloom. When he brought a cup of tea to her in bed that same morning, she didn’t drink it.
“Did you not warm the teapot?” she admonished him.
She was angry with him when he washed up after breakfast; finding fault with everything.
“You have the place in a right mess, now will you stop moping and leave things to me and get on with your writing”, she affirmed.

Christmas and its tinsel coated magic were bypassing Alexander this year, leaving him feeling as cranky as the Dickens character ‘Scrooge’, and worse still, he felt helpless to do anything about it. He tried to think of the good days when they didn’t have so many bills to worry about, and when they could afford a holiday. He thought of the few genuine friends they had met over the years and the happy times and the pleasant past memories.
He even reminisced romantically about all the wonderful kind and gentle women he had known in life and whom he’d loved; well for a while at least. He’d met Mary, after he had abandoned his youthful wayward behaviour, for a more responsible attitude to life. “You’re dreaming again, now drink up your tea before it goes cold”.
Mary had come into the kitchen “You were restless in bed last night. You took all the blankets to yourself”, she stated casually.
“Yeah”, he grunted .
“You shouldn’t be staying up late writing. You know how tired you are what with the flu going about these days”, she continued.

He looked at his wife affectionately and felt guilty about not being a better husband. Here he was, hoping for a worldly accolade, when his greatest fortune now stood beside him, always disregarding how tiresome, ungrateful and downright selfish he seemed at times. He winced at the thought. How wonderful she was, good and kind and always there for him and their children, with never a thought, for herself. It had taken voices from Heaven last night to bring him to his senses and to an awareness of reality.

Alexander felt ashamed; though, in fairness, he had worked hard to make a good home for his family. Freelance journalism gave you independence, but you damn well worked hard for it in a highly competitive digital age.
In taking care of career and home, maybe he should have given more thought to Mary, his greatest friend and lover.

How many guys had thought about this situation in all the homes on earth, over the centuries? How many had done something about it? Maybe that’s what his dream was about. His folks and her folks, coming into his dreams to try to make him aware that he was not a failure and how dare he think so.

That God had been good to him, and Mary could not have done more. He was an ordinary Joe, plodding along in life as best he could. A guy who, under pressure from without had, for a while, forgotten the great treasures in his own home and in the heart, above all, of the woman he loved.

Brushing gloomy thoughts aside, he took up his empty teacup and rinsed it under the tap. He approached his wife as she was washing up, put an arm around her and kissed her neck, including a mole which had been bothering her.
“What’s that for?” she asked, throwing her arms and the damp tea towel around him as their lips met tenderly. It was always her response to his displays of affection. “Oh nothing”, he said “Just that I love you so much, you really are my Xmas dream woman, darling”.
She handed him a letter just arrived in the post. “It’s the results of my biopsy”, she said. “I know how you worried about it”.
“Well?”, Alexander asked anxiously.
“The mole’s benign”, she confirmed.
“Everything’s OK so?”, Alexander sought confirmation.
She smiled at him knowingly “Yes, quit worrying, you old fool; everything’s OK now, “Happy Christmas, dear”.

Anyway, about this dream, Alexander had.

In it he saw his wife with a mole on her neck. The place she was in had a strange, and enchanting aura . In the dream he slowly approached his wife and kissed her gently on the neck, when suddenly there was what could only be described as an explosion of love that seemed to cast its spell over himself and his wife and everything was so beautiful. He felt that neither his weaknesses nor failures could taint that wonderful aura.
As he kissed his wife in this dream, he knew that he had not been looking at real life, but he resolved to change his outlook. He had been like a fool putting his trust in hoped-for fame and wealth, when all the time he had the greatest wealth of all; the love of a devoted wife who had given him her unconditional life and love, without seeking anything in return, but his own happiness.

“Mary”! said Alexander.
“Yes, Alexander”! she replied.
“Did I really kick those blankets off the bed last night, huh? Dreams can be so crazy, Happy Christmas.” he confirmed
“Indeed, darling”! she agreed,