I am running though Central Park North at dawn. The only image is that of my legs, moving, moving. I am wearing orange and gray sneakers and can hear my breath, labored but rhythmic, and the thump-thump of my feet hitting the concrete as I run. The season is always Fall, and there are yellow and orange leaves on the trail, which is partly uphill.
That's it. That's the whole thing.
But it's significant in a couple of ways: I hate running. Too many jiggling parts, too public, too many interested onlookers, especially for a black woman running in Harlem or West Philly. Also, that the place is recognizable seems important. There is the rock wall and the asphalt, but also my beloved rink where the girls from Figure Skating in Harlem perform. (I volunteered for a few years with them, and it was a very special place for me.) Other than the setting, only my legs and feet are visible- not what's ahead of me.
Just each breath, each step, each second...the same. Just me.
I don't know anything about dreams, but when I begin having this one, I try to ignore it.
Until I can't.
Then I get up, put on the orange and gray sneakers, and head out.
Have I mentioned I hate running?
Secret's out: 13's running at dawn again.
Shit.
Secret's out: 13's running at dawn again.
Shit.
What do you think this dream means?
xoxo,
13
