Dreaming of Dreamland

Apollo took three long, graceful strides toward me; smooth enough for anyone to imagine him floating on air. He stopped when he reached me and slowly dipped into a gentlemanly bow. He gently took my right hand as if he meant to kiss it and I felt my mother grasp my left wrist instinctively, as any mother would when confronted by a stranger.

Apollo slowly lifted his eyes to her face and I noticed then that they were an unusual ash colored grey, his lips pressed into a Cheshire grin. He winked at her, but not at all with the boyish charm of the nice man on the train. It was provocative and alluring, and insinuated something more than what my young mind could comprehend. My mother swooned and my wrist was relinquished.

“Don’t worry Mama,” he lulled softly, his voice reassuring and delicious, “Your princess is safe with me.”

He picked me up easily and lifted me over the railing, gracefully placing me on the dirt stage. When I looked back at my mother, she was clutching the neckline of her dress, taking a deep breath. I tried to shoot her a questioning look, but Apollo grabbed my hand and tugged lightly forward.

“Come on Princess, let’s show Mama how brave you are,” the silky tone of his voice made me follow him at once. He led me to the lone lion, which now lay on all fours with its enormous head resting on its forepaws. It glanced apathetically in my direction then looked away, as if bored by a redundant situation.

“Go on Princess, give him a pat,” Apollo nudged me forward, but I gave a horrified glance at the lion’s huge, lethargic jaws and imagined them crushing me. I spun around and clung to his body, burying my face in his thigh. The crowd awed, but I did not smile like did earlier in the day when the people approved of my dance. They were awing at my fear, and I now felt self-conscious.

Apollo smoothed my hair. “Don’t be afraid, Princess. I won’t let him hurt you. He is just a big kitty cat.” His voice was so soothing, and I turned to see him reaching down to touch the tan fur of the lion. I gave a wide-eyed glance at the face of the lion, half expecting it to jump up and bite his arm off. But the lion just lay there, motionless, save for the deep breathing in and out of his belly.

I smiled and looked up at Apollos face, his smoky gaze meeting mine, and he nodded forward in approval. I reached out and giggled as I felt the first touch of fur under my fingertips. He smiled at me, and as the crowd cheered in adoration I felt brave enough to rub its belly like I would an average dog. The lion closed its eyes and took a very deep breath. The breath startled me and I pulled my hand back abruptly, but Apollo caught it with his and smoothly cooed, “Wasn’t so bad, was it Princess?” I blushed and shook my head.

He lead me back to my mother, who looked as blue as if she hadn’t taken one breath since I stepped on the dirt stage. He lifted me back over the railing and safely in her arms. He took my hand, bowed, and this time did kiss me right on the back of my hand with a soft little peck. “For the Princess…” he smiled. I giggled and blushed again. Then he shifted his ashen gaze to my mother, who gasped lightly, and he held out his hand to her as well. She glanced around awkwardly, but the smoky eyes never left hers. She lifted her hand out to him and he embraced it, still gazing intently at her, and pressed his soft lips against her skin; lingering much longer...too long...on her hand. My mother sighed deeply, her eyes closed. “For the Queen…” his voice was low and seductive, and he dragged his hand across hers as he let it go, smirking his Cheshire grin.

As he walked away I looked up at my mother. She gazed longingly after him, biting her lip. I tugged on her sleeve. “Mama did you see? I touched a lion! He could have bitten my head clean off! I would have been dead and bleeding blood everywhere! Bleeding blood! But did you see Mama? Were you watching? He didn’t bite me; he just let me pet him! Can we get a lion, Mommy? Mommy, can we get a lion? Mommy!”

She looking down at me, awakened from her trance. “Suzy, please!” she exclaimed, exasperated. I clamped my mouth shut grumpily. The next act was moving on stage and, although it involved two giant elephants, I was not as enthusiastic about this show as I was about Apollo and his lions. The look of disappointment on my mothers face as Apollo left the stage led me to believe she thought the same way. So I sleepily yawned and curled against my mother. She brushed a gold lock of hair out of my eyes.

“It’s past your bedtime,” she said softly. I nodded and replied, “I know.”

“I think it’s time to go,” and there was no debating it. I was already half asleep.

She led me out of the arena and back into Dreamland, where the twilight had long since faded into a milky cerulean night that swirled with stars and dark clouds; the amazing lights of Dreamland reaching into the sky, trying to grab an opiate moon out of the galaxies. I tried to keep my eyes open to see the electric Coney I plotted so coyly to attain, but I simply could not do it. My mother was right; it was past my bedtime.

I only half remembered the walk back down Surf Avenue, and what I did remember I did not recognize in the new face of night. I tried to locate the food vendors, the freak show oddities, the street magician…but all in vain. I gave up and curled into the comfort of my mothers arms as she carried me back to the train.

She carried me onboard the half empty car and took a seat in the back corner, letting me lay across her lap. “Did you have fun today?” she cooed softly, humming a lullaby. My eyes opened a slit and I murmured my affirmation. She sighed softly and said “Good.”

Her hum allayed my wild thoughts of our day, and the smooth rocking of the train soothed me into a trance; drifted me to a sleep where I was twirling with my mother in the sunshine, dreaming of Dreamland.