I came towards him. It was impossible for me not to recognize him. Didn’t my heart know by heart the way he contained himself, every of his move? I felt I loved him, and love had instincts, I knew.
Now I was beside him. I would greet him. But my lips were cold. Besides, it would be useless to greet him. Knights are usually so quiet and speak a little.
Lucky me, at a moment his camel was going down. A breeze revealed the corner of his mouth. I saw the knight was me. That was my first dream. On the next day, I packed my things in my big suitcase. I intended to go back to my home town.
I had the same dream the next night. When I woke up, I packed my beauty case and put it on the bed. I planned to give it to Rita.
I had another dream in the following night. There I saw my son. We stood face to face. But I hesitated; was he really my son? And in the afternoon I worked harder than usual in that new building construction. In five days I intended to propose Rita. But no one knew about this, even Rita didn’t, either.
One day passed. I went through it listening to Sonia grumbling, “Holy Mary, queer is a hard work. This see-through dress had me bones hurt. Those stripteases earned me twenty. Hey, I had dreams and I met my prince handed me two-grand to shop. I guess dreams are hundred times real life. Pity me!”
Four days gone. The doubt I had about myself and my son grew. I couldn’t afford going back to my home town. My saving was never enough. So, I unpacked my suitcase. The see-through dress, tank-top, mini skirt and camisole, I put them back in the wardrobe. I unpacked my beauty case, too. I combed my wig again. And I still go to the construction in the afternoon. Sonia was right. Dreams are hundred times of reality.
*
(Jakarta, 8 July 2006)
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