I dreamt of a soldier who gave me a kite.
I was arguing with my mother. I'd recently been in Brooklyn, in a building that was enormous, that had four floors that were two units, plus a floor that was one flat. The entire building was being turned into a single family home: which meant 4-5 floors, 4-6 bathrooms and bedrooms, an obscene amount of space for 3-5 people. I'd been really blown away by the tour of this building, and was telling my parents that what was most astonishing was that the mortgage payment for the place was $1500.
"That's impossible, Jessica!" my mom was shouting at me.
"Why does it have to be so impossible?" I asked.
"Nobody gets that much space on just fifteen hundred dollars a month."
"That's what the woman said."
"The woman giving the tour. She said that the family was able to live in the space and paid only 1500 a month."
"That's impossible, you must be wrong, you must have misunderstood her."
I was really frustrated. I knew I was saying something outlandish, but that didn't make it false. I was sitting down, facing my mother, who had her back to a window which opened out onto the street. My father stood between us and off to the side, kind of wondering what he should do, if there was something for him to do.
I sighed and shook my head.
Just then a man ran by with a string wound on a spool. My face lit up. I was suddenly so happy about this man and the kite he was flying on the sidewalk. I ran outside to him.
He was a handsome man, in a khaki uniform with brown skin and a small, well-trimmed mustache and a wide, unburdened smile.
"Can I fly your kite?" I asked breathlessly.
With an exhale of delight, he handed me the string and the spool, and I looked up into the sky, to see what was captured on the other end of the string.
It was a great black kite, sort of like a box kite, but it had wings, and on the wings were flags of red, blue, green and purple. It was beautiful. I was thrilled.
Then the kite was much closer to me, not flying very high at all, threatening to get stuck in the tops of trees, and I was running the sidewalk trying to find a gust for the kite to rise on. As my feet hit the pavement and I panted, I could hear the gentle voice of the handsome brown man coaching me. It was soft, and right in my ear. But despite how hard I tried, nothing happened. I vainly ran the city sidewalks, trying to get this kite to soar above the tops of the trees. I was sad, but somehow I would not stop hoping, stop trying.