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29: “Strange Dream – Ali in Wonderland”
Ali could hardly sleep that night. She kept thinking about going back to California. She tossed and turned and had a mixed-up, crazy dream about her family and people she had met in New York City. The dream was very strange, indeed, like something out of her favorite book that she brought to New York years ago, Alice in Wonderland. In the dream, she was Alice, dressed in the white prom dress and velveteen jacket she wore recently, running through the streets with a pizza in her hand. Reynolds was the Mad Hatter saying, “Hey Lady” to everyone and stomping about like Jerry Lewis. “Marsha darling”, the redheaded lady in the restaurant window holding her father’s hands was the Queen of Hearts. One moment in the dream Ali would be snoring at St. Andrews, and the next, a tiger was biting her face at the zoo and telling her how delicious she tasted. Joe was swirling whipped cream into old man Brewster’s bean soup at the drugstore, as Iris stood on the top of the lunch counter singing. Zina was paddling a canoe in the museum, even though there was no water. Ali’s father was playing with a rope while singing “Fate can play a trick with a twine”. Madame Fifi was playing her piano wildly while Babette ran around chewing up all of Madame’s gowns. Her mother was running across 57th street yelling, “I’m late, I’m late, get out of my way, I’m late for work.”
“Ali, wake up, you’re having a bad dream,” said her mother. Ali pulled herself out of her dream and opened her eyes.
“You kept saying you’re late,” said her mother.
“No, Mother, you kept saying you were late,” said Ali sleepily.
“No matter----try to get back to sleep, Angel,” Her mother lightly ran her hand over Ali’s flushed face and touched her forehead.
Very early the next morning, Ali quietly dressed and left the apartment as her mother and brother slept. She went straight to the park and headed for the playground swings. She remembered swinging in Mrs. Amity’s backyard in the Valley. She was so much bigger now, but the memories were still fresh. Hardly anyone was around in the park except a few dog walkers. The squirrels would stop and look at Ali and then vanish quickly up a tree.
“So what do you think, Mr. Squirrel?” asked Ali. A squirrel had stopped to look at her. He was totally still, with his tail pointing straight up in the air.
“Should I go back to California?” asked Ali out loud. The squirrel twitched a second, and than ran off. She continued swinging for the longest time, looking at all the familiar sites in the park like the tall buildings that formed a rectangle around all the greenery of Central Park and her favorite climbing rocks a short distance from the swings. She thought about the castle she had seen from their window of the Osgood when they first arrived. She never got to explore it like she planned.
Ali heard singing behind her.
“Rhymes, sweet rhymes, fine rhymes have I,” sang her father softly as she turned quickly and saw him standing behind the chain link fence.
“How did you find me?” asked Ali.
“Just a good guess. Your mother told me you’d either be at The Drug Store or the playground,” said her father with a slight smile. Ali could see her mother and Reynolds in the distance standing near a bench.
“Ali, I just want you to think about coming back to California. The decision will be yours. Remember, your mother will be coming back to California in the near future.”
“OK, Dad. I’ll think about it,” said Ali, slipping off the swing and walking toward the entryway to the playground where she met her father.
“So, Dad, have you gone to Disneyland yet?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting for you.” He reached down to take her hand, and Ali smiled up at him, placing her hand in his. They walked toward her mother and Reynolds who were waiting in the distance.
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About the Author
Valarie M. Vine was born in Hollywood, California. She loved reading from an early age, and started writing as a teen-ager. The five years she lived in New York City as a child were transformative. She wrote light verse for a long stretch, heavily influenced by Ogden Nash, and Dr. Seuss. One of her poems “Of Late There Has Been a Quite Desperate Raven” was published in The Missile, a Navy newspaper at Point Mugu, California where she worked as a secretary for 20 years. After thinking about writing A Little Orange in the Big Apple for many, many years, she finally wrote it in 2009. She has lived with an assortment of beloved cats and dogs at Hollywood Beach, California for over 30 years.
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