Lemon Lavender Olive Oil Cake

It's a memory I've hoarded for twenty-odd years
and still claim in moments of déjà vu when time stops,
its seed case cracks open, as a storm cracks open,

a whole summer happens in one hour, and I know again
what Plato's paradise of souls awaiting rebirth is made of:
birdsong, thunder, green, cicadas, and heat.

~ Margaret Holley, from "Walking Through the Horizon"

This morning I awoke to the fading aroma of rain, ozone and bluebells; remnants of another empyrean dream. With a lethargic breeze drifting through open windows and shower-fresh skin sliding against crisp cotton sheets, I have been falling, blissfully, into dreams that leave me feeling tranquil and wistfully nostalgic. I wish I could hold onto that serenity, or slip into its ambiance like a linen summer dress.

Spring and summer summon the best night dreams. I can recall a handful of tweedy details that are raised higher on the fabric; a man's deep green-velvet voice in the misty outer-lining, offering words of comfort in the form of poetry and T.S.Eliot. I remember wry humor; an elegantly arched brow looking at me through overgrown blades of grass on a too-small picnic blanket - a wordless 'Oh really now, Valerie?' half-smile. I know I'm safe and loved and free (for once) from my own peace-ravaging thoughts. (Thank you, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Captain James Nicholls...and yes, you too, Loki.)

Currently I'm basking in the retelling of my latest vanishing dream, and I am savoring the last slice of this equally ethereal cake.
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