# The Stuff of Dreams



## Plasticweld (Feb 3, 2018)

The Stuff of Dreams by Bob Brown

A smile came across my face.  My heart rate quickens just a little as I steered my wife towards the entrance.  With a gentle tug, she let me know, it wasn’t going to happen. 
…

  For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of being able to enter.  Staring from the outside looking in.  Plate glass and age kept us apart back then.   Every fantasy was in there hanging on the wall.  Lost in my thoughts I could have stood there for hours; had I not been shooed away by the icy stares from people on the other side of the glass. I would reluctantly move on, trying to capture those images in my mind.  It was Disney world for young boys, but young boys were not welcome.  My mind spinning, sporting a smile I dreamed of all the things that could one day be.  

Years later, my time came.  I entered and strolled down the aisles. I was eighteen and they would not kick me out.  They did give me funny looks as I took in their wares. Moving slowly and methodically, I played out in my mind every fantasy, it was very exciting.  A young sales clerk asked if she could help, she smiled when she said it.  I uttered words that were new to me, and they felt funny as they left my lips. 

“I am looking for something for my wife.” The words hung in the air as if they were the magic password that opened the doors to my dreams.

With a coy smile she asked, “What size is she?” 

I remember looking over the clerk. Drinking in her every feature.  Her waist size, her height and cup size. My eyes moved over every inch of her as I sized her up.  Apparently, she was used to this.  She moved to the side to 
 give me a profile view.  She maintained her smile.  It was the first time anyone had ever modeled for just me.  It was ok for me to be checking her out, and I liked it. 

“She is about your size, a little broader in the shoulders.” I replied.

  While I remember her and the experience. I can’t recall what I came home with.  We walked through the store together looking at all the different kinds of lingerie.  I am sure I picked something flimsy, something see through, something that involved one of my fantasies. 

I would visit Fredricks of Hollywood many times over the years.  I loved to bring something home to surprise my wife.  It added excitement to our marriage and always gave us something to look forward to.
…

As Linda guided me away from the store, a sense of sadness passed over me.  Glancing through the windows, looking at the stuff dreams are made of.  I realized my youth was gone.  The days of playing dress up were gone.  The play dates and the sexual frenzy, now replaced with something different.  

It maybe my failing eyesight.  It maybe forty years of marriage, forty years of being in love, but She still looks young and exciting to me. 

I smile as a thought crosses my mind. If I stood outside the windows and looked in now, as a gray haired old man. I am sure that I would probably receive the same icy stares back. This time as a dirty old man leering in, instead of a young boy.  I am again separated by glass and age.

Linda catches me smiling and asks, “What are you thinking?”  

I replied as I gently squeeze her hand, “I was just thinking of how much I love you.” 

It occurred to me as we strolled hand in hand through the mall, I had realized my dreams.


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## Darren White (Feb 3, 2018)

I like this Bob, it's warm, playful and warm, with a wee bit of nostalgia 
If I were you, I think I would cut the 'd' from 'loved' in this sentence:
_"I was just thinking of how much I loved you"_


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## Plasticweld (Feb 3, 2018)

Good catch Darren I agree with you :}


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## ppsage (Feb 3, 2018)

I'm not really sure how to conjugate the past tense but the verb shoo means to chase away and the verb shoe, of course, means to provide with footwear. I suspect what you're looking for here is shooed. (Passes the spell-check, which might be a good sign.) SPaG's getting pretty clean though! -------- Nicely sentimental and nostalgic as always, with that bait-and-switch opening which you seem to love, and do pretty well with, but which always grates on me personally with a bit of insincerity, like a carnival barker's come-on and that usually ends up feeling a little disconsonant. In appreciation, pp.


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## Plasticweld (Feb 3, 2018)

ppsage, Thanks for the spelling help. 

I know from past experience you have never cared for my style of story telling.   This story is from an evening walk with my wife last night, who just wanted to get out and go for a walk. It being 10 degrees here last night, she wanted to go the mall.  The story is basically the thought pattern that I had for a matter of 30 seconds or less.  

I have no idea how your thought process works.  For me it takes only a trigger to bring back a flood of memories, my mind spins at 90 mph.  Often the beginning makes little sense until you learn the context of what triggered the memory.  MY wife had no idea that in a matter of seconds I went from feeling nostalgic, to saddened, to feeling thankful.  She only knew that I loved her and that I was smiling when I said the words.   For her, that is the story


When I am telling a story, I assume a fairly high level of intellect.  I don't ever rush out and bombard the listener or the reader with information. I try and take advantage of their preconceived ideas and stereotypes.  It often leads the reader to thinking verses just taking in information.   I am going to assume that even though you don't care for my writing, your intellect must at least be high enough to follow the story.  You do comment and help with everything I have ever written... 

Look at my story telling as no more than a brief visit into my mind.


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## Gofa (Feb 4, 2018)

Where as the foreigners say

as I gently squeeze her hand, “I was just thinking of how much I have loved you.” 

It is looking back counting the days and the many ways   Past tense serves well 

to me “you” are the writer, short of childrens books, you are writing to your peers   You start dumbng it down you are no longer in the room 

To me its walk a mile in my shoes  what else have you to bring to the table 

as a gentleman of many years a whistful thoughts this strikes a huge chord delightful  thankyou 

PS my stories arrive pretty much fully hatched too


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## jenthepen (Feb 8, 2018)

I love this little _slice of life_ story, Bob and I can identify with the roller coaster of emotions that a small memory prompt can create. Shhh, don't tell anyone but, if I know ladies, your wife would have been enjoying a few memories of her own. Not that we would ever admit to that, of course.


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## SilverMoon (Feb 9, 2018)

Bob, one smooth scenic ride of a write leaving me feel as if I were in the passenger seat. Good story telling should make you feel you’re partaking in such away.

You’ve got a gift or weaving snapshots into a unified story. And I like that you’ve not cluttered it with dialogue. Just enough speaking so as not to “speak-over” your very moving reflections. 

An example, stirring and poignant to your present time in life. _Trust me, I’m not overemphasizing when I say this is one touch of brilliance.
_
*“I am again, separated by glass and age”*


I’m a hound for Writing Quotes”. For me, this one addresses your work _– a paraphrasing from Homer, I think_…

“Write to entertain and instruct”

It should go without saying that you entertain. Your lesson to me – never take anyone, anything for granted. Continue to cherish.

Valentine’s Day is nearing. If you are so inclined, I would love to read a piece about your first Valentine’s Day together as husband and wife. I can only imagine what wonders you could do with this.

Laurie


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## SilverMoon (Feb 9, 2018)

_double post - a gift of mine_


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