Salty Camping

[Robert Burke]

In a group where I am a member, someone posted a message about camping, and last night I posted a reply.  And something about camping became a part of the dream I was having when I awoke this morning.

I was with an aunt (the only one left alive), and she told me that her son had been released from federal prison (drugs). I hadn't seen him since he became a fugitive from justice 20 years ago, and I told my aunt that I would like to see him.  When I said that he stepped from behind a wall.  He looked a little older, had gray in his hair, and had his hair cut short in a buzz-cut sort of like his dad's.  I gave him a hug, and he told me that he was getting married again, and invited me to the "rehearsal party" at a bar in the college town where I went to college.

There were several young women there, and I got to talking with one of them.  I told her that I thought she was 20 years old.  She laughed, brushed back her dark hair, and said, "Try 40."  Then I could see a small strand of entwined white hairs between her temple and the top of her head.

While we talked we decided that we would go camping.  The next thing I remember is waking up in the car, and seeing her dragging some brush to a small fire she had started at the edge of a park.  When I got out to help her, she walked up to me, and we started to kiss.  A deep, passionate kiss.  I could taste her lips and her tongue, and with every second the kiss continued I could taste more and more of the molecules of who she was.  I could taste her saliva and her skin.  I could taste her sweat and her tears.  When I could taste her womanliness, I started to lean backwards to lie down on the road.  The road was deep chat, about the size of peas or shelled peanuts.  She was pressed tightly up against me, limbs enmeshed, and our mouths sealed tightly together.  I lied down on the chat, and she lied down against me, partly on top of me.  And then I woke up.