2019-07-03 - Dreaming of Dancing

The energetic notes from the busker’s saxophone filled the air as Alexander led Isolde closer to where he was playing. Sandwiched between that funnel cake trailer and the turkey leg one. The music was a good thing. The music made her happy. Swaying to the song, her eyes drifted closed and she could picture better times. Things from another life, another time. Things that had never happened to her but wouldn’t it be nice if they did?

A hazy blanket of smoke hung in the air of the speakeasy like a warm and welcoming friend. Alcohol was flowing freely under the noses of those who were happy enough to turn a blind eye to the currently illegal activity. The crowd was good tonight. Men and women mingling, drinking, enjoy each other and most of all, enjoying the music.

A man was up on stage, playing lead on the saxophone. Backed up by a pair of trumpets and a pianist. High energy jazz music. Swing. Somewhere near the center of the dance floor was Isolde. She’s wearing a baby blue evening dress and her hair was pinned up in a neat bun, like a professional did it. Dancing with whomever’s willing to dance with her. And she’s good. Maybe one of the best out on the floor. Her smile is bright and her laugh is easy. She isn’t haunted by the terrible things she’s seen and the things she’s done.

Sometimes her dance partners vaguely resemble Alexander. Others are reminiscent of Harper. A mix of men and women she’s encountered over the years all coming together to make up these faces she won’t remember in the morning. This dream-life where her mind isn’t even a little broken and she’s never had to do anything that gave her nightmares. A place where the Veil doesn’t exist and bad things only happen to bad people.

When Isolde wakes up, it’s still dark outside. She can sort of make out a few rays of light starting to try and break through. Her cheeks are wet with tears and she draws in a breath. It’s not the first time she’s had dreams like that. But it is rare. Dreams that are only dreams where things can’t hurt her. She wipes the tears away with her hands and starts to get up. There’s an intense urge in that moment, for her pills. Because bad things don’t just happen to bad people in the real world and the Veil does exist. And she is broken and she isn’t happy.

There’s a brief look towards Alexander’s bedroom as she pulls on her flannel. Listening for a brief moment to see if he’s asleep, or even here. Sometimes she’s happy. Using the flannel sleeve to wipe her eyes again, Isolde whispered a soft goodbye to Luigi and then headed outside. Walking was a good way to clear her head and maybe the weather would be nice enough for the busker to be on the Boardwalk again.