The End of a Dream by Jeffrey Zable

  I was at a party talking with some people I didn’t know, and in this group was a woman that I was very attracted to. I kept looking at her, but when our eyes met she’d frown, and I could almost hear her saying, “Don’t even think of hitting on me!”

    Even so, I tried to make her laugh and feel comfortable, but the harder I tried the more she seemed to dislike me, until finally she walked away.

     Soon after, I woke up needing to urinate, so I got out of bed. I don’t remember how long it took me fall asleep again, but at some point I was back at the same party, and while milling around I saw the woman I was attracted to standing by herself in the corner of a room.

     I walked over to her, and noticing that she had an anxious expression,I asked,  “Are you feeling okay?”

Looking at me with her beautiful sad eyes, she responded, “I’m late and have to get to Divisadero and Fillmore.”

     Immediately I realized that Divisadero and Fillmore do not intersect, but wanting to help her as a way of getting her to like me, I said, “I have a car, and I’ll be glad to take you there right away!”

     No sooner than I started driving, we saw a crowd of people standing in front of a large plate glass window. Several of them were looking at something through the glass, but I had no idea what it was.

    Gently touching my arm, she said, “Park your car and let’s see what’s going on!”

     As soon as we got out of my car, she took my hand and we walked to where the crowd was.

     Moving past some of the people, we looked through the window into a large room that was filled with children’s toys, including mechanical dolls that were marching up and down the aisles.

     Turing toward her, to see what her response was, she put her arms around me and planted a kiss on my lips, which led to our passionately kissing each other, oblivious of the people around us.

    We continued like this until all of a sudden I had to urinate again, which made the dream fade away.

    When I got back into bed, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get back to sleep.

Photo by Mo on

About the Writer:

Jeffrey Zable is a teacher and conga drummer who plays Afro-Cuban folkloric musicfor dance classes and Rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area. His poetry, fiction,and non-fiction have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies.    Recent writing in Hypnopomp, Ink In Thirds, Nauseated Drive, Tigershark, After The Pause,Third Wednesday, Brushfire, Smoky Blue, Alba, Greensilk, Corvus, and many others.In 2017 he was nominated for both The Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize.

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