Reverie

 

“Do you know Eileen?” Maud has been staring at me while I’m getting ready for the pool. The locker room here at Kennedy is quiet for the moment. It’s just the two of us. I have no clue who she’s talking about and tell her so.

            “Nope, don’t know any Eileen. But this isn’t where I usually swim until after the Pandemic. I swam up at the Hilltop Y.”

     “Oh!” She’s sitting on the narrow bench in the corner, her brightly colored mask barely muffling her speech. In mid undress, her enormous white breasts hang in full glory. I can’t help but stare. What would it be like to carry around such appendages?

            I get back to the conversation, “They closed that pool up at Hilltop.”

            “Did they?”

            “Yup....”

            “I swam there once and had such a frightening experience!” she proclaimed, pulling on her avocado green swim shirt, the enormous breasts now encased.

            “What happened?”

            “This woman....oh, it was horrible!” she pauses for drama or to put on her swim shoes.

“I was swimming along and you know how you can get into a Reverie.....”

            I honestly don’t, but I do see how some swimmers are in their own dreamy worlds. I just nod in agreement.

            “....and so, I was swimming along and my arm went under the lane line into the next lane, barely touching this woman. And she just stood up and hauled off screaming at me!”

    

    Maud shudders at the recollection. I wonder when this was. Maybe the woman was me. Lord knows I’ve screamed at plenty of clueless swimmers while at the Y. I don’t recall screaming at Maud. I think I’d remember her.

            But maybe not.

            I don’t tell her that I used to scream at Reverie Swimmers. I mean, I get it. Swimming can be a dreamy meditative experience for some, but hell, you have to pay attention. You’re not the only one in the pool. Esp. at the Y.

            “I never went back there!” Maud shakes her head, slinging her lime pool bag over her shoulder. “I was so upset!”

            “That’s too bad,” I tell her, but think, gosh good thing she didn’t go back. Her and her Reverie!

            “OH! I am so HAPPY to be here!” she proclaims, waddling out of the locker room.

            I agree with her, waiting a moment to follow. I still keep the 6-foot Covid distance. Or try to. At least on land.

            In the pool is another matter. Esp. if the swimmer next to you is in her own Reverie.

           

 I hum Robert Schumann’s version as I march out to the Natatorium. I am SO happy to be here! And, as I walk out onto the deck to survey the scene, I spy Maud, happily walking in the shallow end, chatting a mile a minute to another woman.

            I pick a lane far away. Grinning as I pull on my cap and mask. A woman stoops near me to pick up her pale pink sandals. “I’m grabbing your lane,” I tell her.

            “Good timing,” she smiles, her mask still in her dripping hands.

            I hop in. Feel the chill of the water and then dive under the surface. It is a dream today. Maybe I do experience a reverie sometimes?

            At least today, I do....

 Tiffany Poon Plays Reverie