To Love is to Dream is to Love

‘We love to dream.  We dream of love.  Essentially, to love is to dream.  Dreams keep our love alive.  Nothing can take our love away from us if only we dream.’

 

          The body lying on the floor before you doesn’t look like it loved, or could be loved.  But if you look past the pale, wrinkled, grayish skin, past the frazzled, unkempt, thinning white hair, if you focus on the frozen smile and the deep blue eyes, that are still open, they’re brightness not unlike the glowing of two blue bulbs on a strand of Christmas lights, you will see the love, the dream, which was kept inside of him.  Even now as he lay dead on the floor of this cell in the asylum for the criminally insane; one can see the dreams of love that kept him alive.  The dreams, the love, which is still alive for all of eternity within him. 

 

          It was forty five years ago, to the day, that Charles H. Pembrock was sentenced to death by hanging for his crimes.  Forty five years to the day. 

 

          Charles sat calmly in the courthouse holding cell awaiting the guards to escort him into the courtroom for his sentencing.  The reason for his calmness, was the fact that he knew he was about to be sentenced to death.  Death was preferable to Charles, over the thought of never being with his love ever again.  When the guards arrived, Charles stood and waited for the four men to place the handcuffs on his wrist and ankles; a smile was on Charles face as he hobbled down the corridor and into the courtroom.  He was seated in the defendants chair with two of the guards standing at either side of him.  A lady dressed in black, her face covered with a lace veil, walked past him and handed a piece of paper to one of the guards.  Charles didn’t even acknowledge her presence.  She immediately turned and walked to the back of the courtroom and sat down. 

          “All rise for the Honorable Harold S. Turner.”  The bailiff announced as the Judge entered the room.  Charles stood and watched as the Judge made his way to the bench.  For an instant, they made eye contact, the Judge quickly averted his gaze away from Charles and continued to the oversized leather bound chair behind the bench and sat down.

          “Court is now in session,” The bailiff proclaimed. “The Honorable Harold S. Turner presiding.”  Then turning to the people in the courtroom continued. “Please be seated.”

          “Will the defendant please rise.”  The Judge spoke in a solemn tone.  Charles H. Pembrock rose along with his attorney.

          “Charles H. Pembrock,” the Judge said, reading from the paper in front of him. “Having been found guilty of two counts of first degree murder, it is my duty to sentence you to,,,” 

          The Judge paused and slowly looked around the courtroom.  His eyes settled on the lady with the black lace veil covering her face.  She nodded and he turned back to the paper and continued reading.

          “Having been found guilty, it is my duty to sentence you to life in prison with no possibility of parole.”

          “No!” Charles screamed as he banged the desk in front of him and tried to take a step forward.  The cuffs on his ankles stopping him and making him stumble, as the two guards reached out and grabbed his arms.

          “No!” Charles screamed again. “I was to be hanged in two weeks.” He screamed.

          A hushed gasp flowed through the shocked courtroom.  Murmurs started; first softly then growing louder.  Some began to cry, others began to yell out.  The Judge banged his gavel and called out for silence. 

          “I will have quiet in my courtroom!”  The Judge yelled as he continued to bang his gavel.  “Silence or I will have you all removed.”

          The yelling stopped, but the murmurs continued for a couple of minutes until everyone was again quiet.

          “Everyone take your seats.”  The judge ordered as he banged his gavel one more time.  “Be seated and remain quiet until I am done, or I will finish this after clearing the courtroom.”

          “No!” Charles screamed out again. “You can’t do this to me!  I was to be hanged!”

          “Guards,” The judge ordered. “Please escort Mr. Pembrock back to the holding cell.  This court is adjourned.” 

          The banging of the gavel echoed through Charles ears as the guards half dragged him out of the courtroom and back down the corridor to the holding cell.  He was sobbing now, no longer calmly facing his sentence.  The horrors of having to live without his love were beginning to sink in.

          “Why?” He sobbed as the guards removed his cuffs and locked the door behind him.  “Why?”

          One guard stayed behind after the other three left.  Looking down the hallway first, then back at Charles, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and held it out for Charles.

          “Charles,” he whispered. “Take this.”

          “What?” Charles sobbed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “What is it?”

          “Just take it and read it.”  The guard said looking nervously down the corridor.

          Charles stepped forward and took the paper the guard held out between the bars.  When he did, the guard turned and walked down the corridor and out the door.  Charles heard the lock click; it echoed a thousand times in his mind as he looked down at the piece of paper.  Charles stumbled to the small bed along one wall and slumped down on the thin mattress.  His hands were trembling as he unfolded the paper and began to read.

 

          ‘My dearest Charles,’ the letter began. ‘I know you may not understand this just now, but hopefully when you get to your prison cell it will become clearer for you.  You will find an envelope containing another letter and a dozen petals of the lake lilies flower.  You remember the lilies don’t you Charles?  I do.  I will never forget them.’  It was simple signed, Your Love.

 

          When Charles was finally escorted to his prison cell, and the door locked behind him, he saw the envelope lying in his bed.  Charles sat on his bed for several minutes before opening the envelope.  When he did, he saw the lily petals.  Pulling one out, he held it to his face and breathed in the succulent aroma.  Charles felt calmer now, calm enough to read the letter contained within the petals.

 

          ‘My dearest Charles, I know you wanted to die, but I could not let you do that to us.  Your dieing would have killed our love, and I won’t let that happen.  I know you would not want that to happen either.  Keep the lily petals to remind you of the lake where we first met.  I’ll will meet you their every night my love in our dreams.  Remember my dear Charles, to love is to dream.’

 

          Charles sat in that prison cell for almost a year before being deemed insane and transferred to the asylum.  He never once moved except to eat his meals and use the toilet.  All day he sat there starring at the cold gray wall in front of him.  At night, he would lay down, a smile on his face and fall to sleep.  When he awoke each morning, the smile was gone, and again he would sit and stare at the wall.  He never once spoke.  In time it was concluded that he had gone insane from the sentence of life, instead of receiving the death sentence he had asked for, and was about to receive, until the Judge was sent a special request. 

 

You see it was the Governor that Charles had killed, along with his own wife those forty five years ago.

 

          The asylum was no different for Charles; he still sat all day, never moving or speaking, until sundown when he would lay down and fall to sleep with a smile on his face.

          For forty five years, Charles lay down at night and dreamed.  He dreamt of the lake.  He dreamt of his love.  For forty five years, Charles dreamed of his love at the lake.  And every night she met him at the lake, in his dreams, and in hers.  Their love flourished every night. 

          One can be locked up in a place so far from ones love, but no matter where they lock you away, they can not take away your dreams.  In the burning heat of the day, ones life may be lonely and miserable, but as long as one has a dream, on will always have love. 

          For forty five years Charles met his love at the lake.  They never aged, always staying the same.  Loving and tender, Charles was able to escape from his cell every night and meet his love at the lake, forever young and in love.  But last night was different, when he met his love at the lake, she was different.  She was old.  She was wrinkled.  Her once flowing black hair was cut short and gray.  Her walk was assisted by a cane.  Charles ran to her.  He held her.  He cried.

          “My love,” Charles asked as he held her wrinkled face in his hands. “What has happened to you?”

          “My dreams have come to an end.”  She replied.

          “But how?  Why?”  Charles asked crying.

          “Dreams can not continue once you have passed.”  She answered reaching out to cradle his face in her hands. “That is why I could not let you die so many years ago.  I would have been alone.  I could not live without you.”

          “But how shall I go on then?”  Charles cried.

          “Come Charles walk with me to the lake.”  She asked holding out her hand.  Charles helped her walk to the shoreline.

          “Look into the water my dear.” She asked of Charles.

          Charles stepped to the edge of the lake and looked down at his reflection in the water.  What he saw he didn’t recognize.  Looking back at him was an old man.  The image was of a man with balding, ratty white hair, wrinkled skin and sunken eyes.

          “But,” Charles stammered.  “What does this mean?”

          “That your dreams have come to an end too, my dear.”

          “No, it can’t be.”  Charles cried.  “I can’t be without you.”

          “Oh my dear Charles,” She explained. “Do you not understand?  Our dreams are over, but our love will last forever.  Right here at this lake.  Our dream of love is eternal.  We don’t ever have to be apart again.  Not even in the daytime, for this is no longer a dream.  This is our eternity.”

          Charles held her in his arms, he whispered in her ear.

          “I love you.”

          “I love you.” She whispered back. 

 

They both turned to the lake, holding hands they watched as the sun rose breaking the dawn of a new day.  They turned back to each other, for the first time in forty five years; they saw each other in the daytime sun.

 

          May 4^th, was considered a slow news day, but even if it hadn’t been, the top story would have been the same.

 

          “GOVERNORS WIDOW PASSES AWAY ON THE SAME DAY AS THE MAN CONVICTED OF HIS MURDER.”

         

 

‘We love to dream.  We dream of love.  Essentially, to love is to dream.  Dreams keep our love alive.  Nothing can take our love away from us if only we dream.’