Running in Journal

This is another dream- or daydream. Can’t quite remember. I am myself, same age (29). (I tell you at the beginning because I so often dream that I am not myself, but someone else, or I may be myself but a different age, or at some other life juncture.)
The wind is just right today; it’s lifting the hair out of my eyes in a gentle caress. The sun peeks out from behind big puffy clouds, but never enough to send his blinding rays to obscure my vision. There isn’t a whole lot more going on today other than the perfect weather, and I’m enjoying it immensely.
My enjoyment is so profound, actually, that I hardly notice at all when a stranger comes into my presence. He’s alone, but his eyes venture in my direction. As I feel them upon me, I am startled from my basking reverie. Nevertheless, I don’t immediately get up, or give any sign of my knowing. Sometimes it’s fun to watch the watcher, who is unaware of being watched himself.
With a languid brush of my hand, I position my phone so that the screen reflects the stranger’s image. I’m a little shocked at his roguish good looks, and straightfoward demeanor. He seems not at all concerned about being discreet. Nor of apparently being somewhat threatening. My skin begins to tingle. I resist the urge to immediately turn about and look at him. It seems as though he is full of mirth then. Is he laughing at me? Is he aware of me watching him, and my internal arrest?
Frustrated, a hissing sigh escaped my pursed lips. Its loud, and bellies the tranquility of the day. A day so absolutely perfect that no sigh of any kind should be heard on it.
With sudden impulse I jumped to my feet and prepared myself for a run. Limbering up is fast when one is relaxed and warm from the sun. in moments, my feet were hitting the sand in regular rhythm, propelling me forward and over the hot sand in easy grace. I feel a deep gratitude for the body that I call mine; so marvelously it moves me, so effortlessly it defies death and danger and carries me through life. The beat of my feet on the sand comforts my heart. But even as I relax and think that the strange voyeur has been left behind, I hear and feel a second pair of feet making chase behind me.
The bolt of excitement that raced up my spine was exhilarating, but also terrifying as I contemplated my pursuer’s possible motivations.
On I jog. Not very quickly, for there was no reason to show my fear just yet, but not so slowly that I make myself an easy target. Fifty feet remains the average distance between my pursuer and I. The sand beneath my feet begins to feel more firm, cooler, and ahead the small beach gives way to a park of trees with a sandy path continuing to wind through lazily. I enter the green embrace of the wood with cool air on my body and a new kind of fresh energy surges through me. I feel that I can run forever, never give out, outrun even the most determined pursuer, and I smile a secret smile to myself. I hear the stranger enter the wood behind me and my glee is no less. The surety of my ability to elude him is beyond question.
The wood is like magic, and it beckons to me. Gleefully, and with no small amount of mischievous joy, I turn from the path and make my way through the wood proper. Vines, dead-fall, brush, thickets, low branches, spines and thorns all present their varied obstacle to me. I evade or navigate them easily. In my zest to push the bounds of my body, I almost forget to keep an eye on my pursuer. In the back of my mind I think that there isn’t much of a chance he will risk his hide dashing after me at a treacherous pace through an unfamiliar wood. Scoffing internally, I whimsically imagine the man that would risk it, just for the pleasure of chasing me. Nonexistent though my imagined man may be, he was the only one I wanted. There was no place in my life or my heart for meek, inept, or undetermined men.
After some time off the path, and thoroughly immersed within the wood, I slow enough to look behind. My heart is pounding and I am panting slightly. I know there will be no one behind me, but my disappointment at seeing that knowledge proven bespoke a hidden hope dashed. The still wood ushered no stranger. It stood quiet and somehow expectant; pregnant with some secret that was rarely divulged to any human.
A long, slow sigh escapes me as my breath normalizes. I turn to continue on my way through the wood, to go wherever it might lead me, and gasp in sudden stunned surprise. Before, not a 10 foot distance, was the strange man. He stood still, making no sound, but ever watchful. He exuded an obvious and unmistakable amused pride. Even as my shock propelled me backward and away from the stranger, he stood still in an nonthreatening manner, and did not move to make chase. I hesitate, glancing him up and down. Half turned, ready to flee on the balls of my feet, the corner of my eye catches the light of determined delight in his eye. He is tall, fit, trim, and wearing beach clothes; bear feet, loose shorts and a loose shirt.
Still I hesitate, my feet losing their spring as the thought of fleeing remains an option but not exactly the first one.

Last updated May 27, 2017