Joanna

Dear Diary,

Last night I had a dream; my heart was a large, deserted mansion. Everywhere I looked I looked I saw objects of beauty, antiques and works of art, all covered in dust. As I walked through the abandoned rooms I witnessed shadows playing on the walls like naughty schoolchildren. The same walls that should have been covered with paintings lovers. I saw all my regrets hiding in corners like cobwebs that need to be swept away. Afterwards I open the backdoor to let some air in and sit down on the doorsteps, waiting.

Today I went to see the show on my own, Tony was not interested.
Today I made a decision, the wrong one, some might say.

Before starting, he ran his hand through his hair, messing it up and leaving a stubborn wisp of hair dangling on his forehead. He bows and pulls a punch of fake flowers from his left sleeve and arranges them in a vase that is sitting on top of the grand piano. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the restless audience. He was carrying a battered suitcase with colourful stickers on. He placed it neatly on the floor next to his seat only to watch it fall down. After a couple of attempts it finally stood still and he could start his performance. Afterwards he tripped over the same suitcase on his way from the piano.
This all was amusing, but it was his songs that made me laugh and cry. Laugh at everything I had in my life and cry for what I didn’t.
While singing he kept his eyes closed, only to open them in the end. Then I saw his grey eyes roam the hall like a moonbeam on dark waters. I wanted so badly to feel their shine on me as I whisper all my secrets into his ear.

However I was not alone with him. I am forced to share him with the others.


Dear Diary,
I had another dream; I was locked up inside a gilded cage, like the one magicians use in their act. Tony stands next to it holding the key. He tells me he is afraid someone would take me away from him. He leans in between the bars and kisses me. He believes I would never disappear on my own. Never leave him. This he tells me with a smile on his face.

These little certainties of his never seize to amaze me. It started the day we met. He was certain he was stealing me away from another man. Anything else, like f. ex the truth, would have lessened the thrill of seduction. Perhaps, for all this time, curiosity has been the reason why I have let him believe what he wanted.
A week has nearly passed and I ask Tony if we are going back to the Sunday- morning variety show. He does not answer, most likely is not even listening.
He does not approve of variety shows. As a serous thespian, he does not approve of variety shows. In his eyes they are full of second-rates and understudies.
So I decide to go alone.

I want to be sure He wasn’t just a dream.
Even though the songs are slightly different, the magic remained the same. I study the faces around me. The tears in their eyes and the raw ring laughter that follows are all real.
They are blissfully un-aware of the conflict going on inside me.
Contrary to popular belief, reason does not stand for what is fair and correct. It merely acts as and argument opposite a dream, a dream of love.

I send him a note asking if we could meet. The conflict is resolved


Dear Diary,
Last night I had a dream; I am sitting in an empty theatre. The audience is long gone. The actors have also left, some still shining with the glow of a superb performance, others drinking away the taste of failure.
The place is so quiet. More quiet than it has ever been. The curtains hide behind them the setting, that hours before were full of magical visions of far away worlds. Now they stand all alone collecting dust, having lost all their magic.
Someone has opened a window or a door and the clear air of a cool, crisp autumn morning comes floating in.
I suddenly remember a piece of poem I once read.

“No matter what has passed, my darling,
the curtains will close and the spotlight must fade.
That is when life and love begin.”




The end