The candle had long burned out when she downed her last glass of brandy and got up out of her chair. She walked to the dining room table and suddenly felt light-headed. Standing by the table, she held on to the back of the dining room chair for a moment to come to her senses.
Was it the alcohol, she wondered, or the conversation she had had with her father before he left half an hour ago. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes. Maybe this had been their last conversation ever, she realized, and still she had not said everything she had wanted to say to him.
All of a sudden, she was captivated by a deep sense of melancholy. He had always been there for her. When she was but a young girl and also when she had completely lost it. When she was destitute and had turned her back on everyone around her. Then, on the blackest page of her life, her mother had passed away. And now there was the threat of her father stepping out of her life as well. His spirit would be extinguished just like the candle next to the empty brandy glass on the side table.
She pulled herself together. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she knew from experience that she would see everything in a more positive light, but first of all, she would get some sleep. She looked forward to that and to her safe, warm bed and the world of her dreams.
She woke up the next day with a clear mind, which was most unusual after a night of heavy drinking. She was aware of a strange sensation. Had her dreams been so intense or had the events in her dream been real? She rubbed her eyes, sat on the edge of her bed and tried to recollect what had taken place in her dream last night.
“Deborah,” came to mind as if it was being whispered to her. Deborah was her name, and although it was perfectly normal for her to hear her name in her dream, she had not been called ‘Deborah’ in years, not even by her parents. Everyone called her ‘Debbie’ for short, or ‘Deb’. The moment she thought about it, her inner eye was flooded by flashbacks. It made her head spin, and the upcoming light-headedness caused her to lean forward and press her hands against her temples.
It felt as if she was dreaming again. She found herself in a field of wheat. A sea of golden wheat stalks that moved to and fro in the driving wind. Yet, the wind felt calm. She felt comforted and the wind whispered:
“Deborah, your day will come. Be patient, it won’t be long now.”
‘Wheat Field’ by Marius B on Freeimages.com
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