Other Side of the Door
at first, she, like other young girls do,
followed her matriarch around and mimicked her cleaning activities,
helping w/ dishes and preparing foods for theLakota men,
her toddling hands tended the old wood burning stove and balancing upon a chair she stirred the soups and watched her grandmother cook the meats,
from a young age she learned to make breads and followed lifelong the recipes,
but from all these women folk activities it was the floor sweeping that fascinated her.
at first, the small, broken wisk broom was hers to command and piles of dust soon stood up tall at her feet, proud and soldierly, then Granma would scoop up the dust, discarding it outside.
she followed such domestic habits later on in life,
her younger brothers, in haste moving through the house-eager to grab something from their room and depart would sometimes step on her dust piles, "sorry Sis",
In time, her first born Son was her companion, crawling behind her and at first, in Toddler explorations, would grab at the dust pile she made, "no no nonono" her motherly voice coo-d to him, Stopping tiny hands from lifting the debris to his mouth. Tiny face and "O" shaped mouth uplifted to her in surprise. Her heart warmed.
At first, in her youth the same dream came to her over and over again, and lifelong it came.
It changed over time, the details, but she was always sweeping something out of the way, or moving things and in that dream, her young son was replaced by her little daughter, standing behind her clutching her skirt or pants leg and watching.
Then it was her younger son, toddling behind her, watching, always they watched her do things expectantly.
In time, her companion was an adult like herself.
In her sleep dreams she was always sweeping her house and her company was always standing close.
"Why aren't YOU doing this for me? she thought to herself, but never said anything.
She moved one room to the next sweeping and He was always behind her, watching her work in what seemed to be patriarchal arrogance,
At first, she would pause her sweeping to look at the Man next to her but he would look away. It could've been her Dad, or her brothers, she wasn't sure as often shadows would hide his face and clothes.
She continued sweeping, cleaning and moving from room to room he followed her.
At first, she was inside a house but soon that dream moved her outside and she'd be sweeping the hard ground off the sidewalk, off the driveway, she'd look up and vaguely recognize a house she once lived in or presently dwelt in.
At first, the item in her hand was a broom, then other times it became a yard rake and she was making a path across the leaf strewn yard and always theMan stood behind her making it obvious that he step upon the clean surface she made.
Always watching her move, picking his teeth with a tooth pick, one time sweeping his mouth with his finger and she recalled somehow cooking a fine meal of tender meats for her companion but each time she looked to see his face he would turn away or the wind picked up and stirred the dust, or the leaves, or the snow she had moved and she turned her attentions back to her work.
"Why aren't YOU doing this for me?", but no answer came, only a shuffled footstep closer as she cleared a path to Somewhere.
At first, the hard snow in front of her, in this sleep dream, was unyielding and wouldn't break, she shoveled harder and the crust broke revealing soft powder underneath.
Break, scoop, toss aside. Break, scoop, toss aside, step forward. And soft footsteps behind her slid closer.
Self congratulatory sighs and muffled exhalations were heard. Lips would smack from hot coffee theMan had consumed moments before or from meals she prepared and he never helped her clean or sweep, rake or shovel.
At first, she didn't know where she was making a path to.
Once, she looked up from her labors and saw a house she had never lived in.
Once, she looked up and saw 2 tipi in her yard and she shoveled snow, moving slowly closer. For she thought she heard children's laughter inside the bigger tipi.
She cleared a path and stepped forward, the companion of hers always behind her, never helping.
At first, she was cleaning, then sweeping, then shoveling.
She recognized that lately she moved snow, gone were her children, gone were the homes she once lived in and each setting thereafter she was outside in the cold moving snow.
Soon she felt the bitter cold and her hands numbed from gripping her shovel. No gloves, only cold and pain.
At first, she was doing something with her hands but soon she was Walking through deep snow.
At first, she was barefoot and the cold jolt from the snow upon her ankles awoke her from these dreams.
But after that, the same dream had her crunching through drifts and she realized she had tall insulated boots on and the same Man was with her, always a few steps behind her somehow perturbed that she had not stomped the snow down enough for him to easily walk through.
Why isn't HE helping me? Him.....Him.
At first, he was bareheaded but now he had a gaudy cowboy hat upon his head.
She was quick to look back but his gaze lowered, hiding his face. He was proud of his hat, simple, black colored and a tarnished silver buckle clasped by worn leather strap.
Up until then, she never really noticed his clothes he wore, but he was always finely dressed for the times of each repeat sleep dream. As the 1970s rolled on into the 1980s, into the 1990s he was dressed in clean clothes of the time.
Always smiling at her, picking his teeth and standing idly by as she worked to trod a path..... to where it was not yet revealed in her dream.
============
excerpt from "The Other Side of the Door".
a Lakota woman's account of one of several reoccurring dreams she had throughout her life.
-LakotaWarrior
at first, she, like other young girls do,
followed her matriarch around and mimicked her cleaning activities,
helping w/ dishes and preparing foods for theLakota men,
her toddling hands tended the old wood burning stove and balancing upon a chair she stirred the soups and watched her grandmother cook the meats,
from a young age she learned to make breads and followed lifelong the recipes,
but from all these women folk activities it was the floor sweeping that fascinated her.
at first, the small, broken wisk broom was hers to command and piles of dust soon stood up tall at her feet, proud and soldierly, then Granma would scoop up the dust, discarding it outside.
she followed such domestic habits later on in life,
her younger brothers, in haste moving through the house-eager to grab something from their room and depart would sometimes step on her dust piles, "sorry Sis",
In time, her first born Son was her companion, crawling behind her and at first, in Toddler explorations, would grab at the dust pile she made, "no no nonono" her motherly voice coo-d to him, Stopping tiny hands from lifting the debris to his mouth. Tiny face and "O" shaped mouth uplifted to her in surprise. Her heart warmed.
At first, in her youth the same dream came to her over and over again, and lifelong it came.
It changed over time, the details, but she was always sweeping something out of the way, or moving things and in that dream, her young son was replaced by her little daughter, standing behind her clutching her skirt or pants leg and watching.
Then it was her younger son, toddling behind her, watching, always they watched her do things expectantly.
In time, her companion was an adult like herself.
In her sleep dreams she was always sweeping her house and her company was always standing close.
"Why aren't YOU doing this for me? she thought to herself, but never said anything.
She moved one room to the next sweeping and He was always behind her, watching her work in what seemed to be patriarchal arrogance,
At first, she would pause her sweeping to look at the Man next to her but he would look away. It could've been her Dad, or her brothers, she wasn't sure as often shadows would hide his face and clothes.
She continued sweeping, cleaning and moving from room to room he followed her.
At first, she was inside a house but soon that dream moved her outside and she'd be sweeping the hard ground off the sidewalk, off the driveway, she'd look up and vaguely recognize a house she once lived in or presently dwelt in.
At first, the item in her hand was a broom, then other times it became a yard rake and she was making a path across the leaf strewn yard and always theMan stood behind her making it obvious that he step upon the clean surface she made.
Always watching her move, picking his teeth with a tooth pick, one time sweeping his mouth with his finger and she recalled somehow cooking a fine meal of tender meats for her companion but each time she looked to see his face he would turn away or the wind picked up and stirred the dust, or the leaves, or the snow she had moved and she turned her attentions back to her work.
"Why aren't YOU doing this for me?", but no answer came, only a shuffled footstep closer as she cleared a path to Somewhere.
At first, the hard snow in front of her, in this sleep dream, was unyielding and wouldn't break, she shoveled harder and the crust broke revealing soft powder underneath.
Break, scoop, toss aside. Break, scoop, toss aside, step forward. And soft footsteps behind her slid closer.
Self congratulatory sighs and muffled exhalations were heard. Lips would smack from hot coffee theMan had consumed moments before or from meals she prepared and he never helped her clean or sweep, rake or shovel.
At first, she didn't know where she was making a path to.
Once, she looked up from her labors and saw a house she had never lived in.
Once, she looked up and saw 2 tipi in her yard and she shoveled snow, moving slowly closer. For she thought she heard children's laughter inside the bigger tipi.
She cleared a path and stepped forward, the companion of hers always behind her, never helping.
At first, she was cleaning, then sweeping, then shoveling.
She recognized that lately she moved snow, gone were her children, gone were the homes she once lived in and each setting thereafter she was outside in the cold moving snow.
Soon she felt the bitter cold and her hands numbed from gripping her shovel. No gloves, only cold and pain.
At first, she was doing something with her hands but soon she was Walking through deep snow.
At first, she was barefoot and the cold jolt from the snow upon her ankles awoke her from these dreams.
But after that, the same dream had her crunching through drifts and she realized she had tall insulated boots on and the same Man was with her, always a few steps behind her somehow perturbed that she had not stomped the snow down enough for him to easily walk through.
Why isn't HE helping me? Him.....Him.
At first, he was bareheaded but now he had a gaudy cowboy hat upon his head.
She was quick to look back but his gaze lowered, hiding his face. He was proud of his hat, simple, black colored and a tarnished silver buckle clasped by worn leather strap.
Up until then, she never really noticed his clothes he wore, but he was always finely dressed for the times of each repeat sleep dream. As the 1970s rolled on into the 1980s, into the 1990s he was dressed in clean clothes of the time.
Always smiling at her, picking his teeth and standing idly by as she worked to trod a path..... to where it was not yet revealed in her dream.
============
excerpt from "The Other Side of the Door".
a Lakota woman's account of one of several reoccurring dreams she had throughout her life.
-LakotaWarrior
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