#ofdreamsstarter

“Yeah, I definitely need a night out on the town.  This place is getting a little claustrophobic.”

“I was a little iffy on the colors this time.... but I think I like it.   What do you think?”

“You see junk.  I see treasure.”

The noise of Vivian’s fingernails drumming against the surface of the metal platform she was sitting on was echoing through the empty performance tent. Her feets were dangling twenty metres over the ground, kicking the trapeze which was swinging back and forth every time it came towards her. She had sat there for a while already. Her practice had basically turned into her scowling at everything and nothing. Creating new performances always took time, effort and a patience which Vivian didn’t always have. Why weren’t things working the way she wanted them to? Why was gravity messing things up and swinging the second trapeze in the wrong direction, when she needed to jump on it? Fuck this! Fuck that! Fuck all of it!

Ursula froze mid-step at the sight in front of her, shocked at who she was seeing. Why was he here? And without the children? She instinctively reached out to the nearest circus worker and and pulled them closer to her only half-looking at them. “I hate to do this to you, but would you mind pretending that we’re dating for like ten minutes? My ex husband is right over there and I honestly don’t feel like dealing with him today… I’ll buy you some food or something, please just hurry and hold my hand or whatever. I don’t have much time.“

Hans was seated at the base of a large tree, away from the crowds and tents, book in hand. It didn’t look all that impressive, if anything, it looked much like the bible would, except instead of ‘Holy Bible’ spelled out on the front, the gold letters read ‘The Odyssey’. Homer had always been one of Hans’ favorite authors and definitely his favorite epic poet. The sun streamed through the leaves of the tree, and there was a soft breeze that kept him from getting too warm. As he flipped the page, a shadow fell over the book, and he finished the line before looking up. “Can I help you?” he asked casually, though his tone was a bit clipped.

“Did you know that less than 28 percent of Americans between the ages of 17-23 are qualified for military service?” Gus asked as he snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look at the person close to him. “That’s only about 1-in-4. If one belonged to those... you wouldn’t want to give up on it, would you? Is there something more important that could actually make you drop out, ignore the honor, stop fighting?”

“My mother always used to say a good glass of wine will fix anything, and I’m beginning to think she’s right. Shame about all the sleazy men in the bar though, right?”