A book about dreams, the present that nearly broke me

Chele Crawley

There’s nothing more frustrating to a missus in-waiting than to hear of a friend’s Christmas engagement. It is, after all, the most magical time of year for one’s partner to get down on bended knee, but it’s not so magical when one’s other half can’t seem to bend that far.

I had already endured 11 such seasons, only to be met with disappointment and an increasingly less affectionate partner. Did himself even kiss me under the mistletoe the past five Christmases?

My mother and sisters had long given on nudging and winking in the run-up to the Yuletide.

There was no point in asking if there would be anything sparkly in the stocking. I dreaded their half-expectant eyes as we visited the family home on Christmas Day each year.

It was always a cheerful smile and a sweeping glance to my left hand, followed by an even bigger grimace. Every new year, I tossed out the ‘To Have and to Hold’ bridal magazines along with the turkey carcass and sighed to myself: What’s another year?

We woke early on Christmas Day so that John could feed the cattle before Mass. I told him that I had a dream that he gave me a diamond. I asked him what he thought the dream meant. It was as subtle as a sledgehammer, but I was beyond caring.

All my friends had been up the aisle; some were even heading for round two, and there I was, still on the shelf, like a dutiful dog waiting at the window for their owner to return. ‘You’ll know what it means later,’ he said with a coy smile.

My eyes lit up. Mass was at 10. I’d need at least two hours to put on my Sunday best, style the hair, apply the full contoured face of make-up and, most importantly, file my nails – my left hand would be on show that day.

John arrived back from the cattle shed badly in need of a shower. That put the kibosh on presents being exchanged before Mass. I suppressed the pang of disappointment.

With hunger in his belly, John tore off after Mass in the direction of my parents’ house. ‘Your mam is great for having the turkey on good and early. I’d say we’ll be sitting down for midday.’

I hoped that meant he had plans for our evening, so I reluctantly let him dictate the terms even though my stomach was sick.

My sister was the first to ask what John got me after noticing a bare hand.

‘We haven’t exchanged gifts yet.’

‘Present time!’ I squealed, as the jeep pulled up at our home.

I rushed inside and made a beeline to the tree, reaching for the gift that I had bought for John.

It was the latest smart watch. He spent the next half-hour engrossed in setting up the gadget as I spied a neat little package under the tree. My tummy was a flutter.

After what felt like the longest time, John handed it to me. I tore the paper off the paper in haste. There in my left hand rested a book entitled: ‘The meaning of dreams’.

‘See. I told you that you would find out the meaning of your dream. I knew you’d like it.’

My face fell. A book about dreams – the present that nearly broke me!

‘John, we need to talk,’ I said firmly.

Chele Crawley is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet on Tuesdays at 11am and Wednesdays at 7.30pm at the Annebrook House Hotel. Happy new year to all readers.