Tangerine Dream Part I: She takes her eyes not off of him
Tangerine Dream begins in the lush mountains of Appalachia along the Blue Ridge Parkway where a wandering spirit searches for the entity she has seen in her dreams: a foreigner with a non-descript accent.
Meandering in and out of the curves she spies upon what may be ahead. He has already eased his way into her soul. First with a simple response. “Shhh…hush little baby…” A softness rather than a condescension. How did he know? Did she will him to her?
As she rounds the next curve, she notices that she is not nervous, not afraid, nor anxious. It is just another day in her life. Some may say a selfish sprite with little regard for the average among the thick laurels that engulf her lair. She decides, “Who cares what THEY say!”
She thinks playing tricks is not her way. The tricks play her and so a magical show is revealed. She just happens to see past the illusions teasing her, tempting her—making her feel a pulse reverberating in places she has long forgotten existed…
Was it an invitation or a designation meant for only her eyes to see?
Did she build the bridge she just crossed or like in a reverie the bridge built itself out of leftover wooden slats laid across the tracks of a disturbed mind?
No matter. She has arrived…
She parks. Sits momentarily. Deep breath. Opens the door.
Gets out of the coach she has driven a million times before. Throws her head back and forth shaking the debris from her long auburn hair.
She knew it was him. He knew it was her. Eyes locked never to be unlocked. Deep breath. “I kept waiting,” he tells her as she takes her eyes not off of him. A presence. “I knew you would come,” he tells her as she takes her eyes not off of him.
“Faith has brought me here. Hope will sustain. Love is ours,” as she touches his ever-growing red cheek. The universe surrounds them; however, they are oblivious. Two souls mated one afternoon in a window sill have now thrown all caution to the wind for this is meant to be.
Walking into the woods, smells of pine engulf and embrace. It is difficult to tell where the one ends and the other begins…so much is this spiritual encounter. She takes her eyes not off of him.
Come drink from the cascades whispers until the falls can no longer resist but drape over the rock hard confines of the mountain side.
Nothing but the sounds of the water can be heard as he lightly touches her exposed arm instantly raising the level of sensory ambitions.
Deep breaths as the climb must take place back up this mountain road where the sprites are disguised as lightening bugs and the ghosts are filaments spiraled out of a web no longer under control: a magical fibrous illumination for those whose eyes and hearts are open enough to push through the silken curtains and see. “Look!” she tells him. “Tell me what you see.”
Instead.
With one hand he moves up and down her arm firmer with meaning and passion unbuttoning the sigh of a love longed for and dreamed about.
With the other he combs through her auburn hair easily pulling her closer into him.
She closes her eyes praying this tangerine dream never ends.
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