Dreaming With Open Eyes
By
Doc Walton
The old man sat still, his focus far away. He was day dreaming a day dream, one from
long ago. In that state of mind so like
a trance, he seemed to drift away and live that long ago moment again. It was one of his favorites even though it
was but a dream itself.
“Today’s lesson, Class, is a review of how to diagram a
sentence. Billy Pendergast, we will
begin with you. Please come up to the
board and diagram the sentence I have written there.”
In the fourth row, end seat closest to the window, Billy’s
best friend Danny Wyatt turned his gaze out the window as Billy shuffled to the
front of the class. Danny knew Billy had
this one cold. They had studied together
the night before. There was something
happening out there on the ball field Danny could just see in the
distance. Someone was raking the infield
smooth. Good, Danny thought, you get
nice even hops that way. Danny pictured
himself at shortstop, his preferred position, scooping up a double bouncer and
transitioning into the hard throw to first. “Got ‘em by a step” the announcer
would shout. Then he saw himself coming
to bat later in the inning. Man on
second, one run down. A quick glance
into the stands behind the dugout to see if she was watching. She was.
Sitting between two other girls, she was the only one Danny’s eye caught
and in that instant he could see the flush of her cheek and the excitement in
her eyes. Danny would make this at bat
for her. He ran the count to 3 and 2,
having fouled off two curve balls. Now with the count full Danny knew he could
expect some heat and he got it, low and inside.
Danny uncoiled quick as a thought and got the sweet fat part of the bat
on the ball. He watched as the orb flew high and deep, hugging the foul line,
but never drifting over. “Gone!” was the
announcer’s cry, “and this one ain’t coming back!”
He would meet her after the game, hold her hand and walk her
home. But they wouldn’t go straight
there. They would stop at Mickey’s Malts so all the other kids could see they
were together. After that, somewhere on
the journey home, they would stop under an old oak and she would lean her back
against its trunk. He would kiss her then
and she would kiss back.
“Danny! Danny! Wake up, the teacher was shouting. It’s your
turn at the board.
The old man remembers that rude awakening, it’s part of his
now here in the moment silent reverie.
He is about to linger awhile on that long ago imaginary kiss, make it as
real as he can with his eyes wide open, but just as he does so another voice
intrudes, an actual voice, not a memory.
“Dinner is ready” this one says.
The old man reluctantly returns to reality and walks towards
the table.
