Dreamer looked at her face in the mirror.. She stared at the slight lines that were beginning to form at the corner of her eyes.. Raising her hand she touched the skin and stretched it slightly. She pulled the lines away. She thought about how many times over the years of her life that she had done this ritual. She wondered if she was beginning to appear old to other people. Smiling and flirting with herself for a moment she tried to put the thoughts aside and enjoy the vision of what was left of her youth..

     A loose tendril of hair fell to her forehead and a curl fell loosely in front of her ear.. Picking up the nearby brush she ran a few strokes through her long wavy brown hair... She smiled to herself...

     "Well at least I still have nice hair"

     Visions of the old ladies that she had seen with really long hair and how silly they looked sometimes ran through her mind.  She hated the thought that someday she too would have to decide whether to cut it off or not..

     Again she smiled as she pushed the loose tendril from her face. Turning from the bathroom mirror, she turned off the bright light and left the room. She looked down at the sleeping form of her husband who lay in his usual position in his chair. He snored softly as she walked past him to her office.

     This was her world now. The world where age didn't matter. Where anything was possible. Safe from the reality of her self made prison.     Dreamer went through the motions of being happy.  The daily routines sometimes seemed harder  to deal with lately

     She didn't think too much of the 'what ifs' in life.  She had lived a pretty full life to this point.

     It was actually funny when she though about it. The many adventures she had had.  Her girl friends, stuck in the rut of young motherhood, used to tell her that they lived lives through hers..  It amused her slightly when they told her that. The way she had hid or tried to hide the pains of that reality of her existence.  More than once, she felt it was more like living in a soap opera.

     She always wondered if people really believed the tales of her life.  She had done so many things, been so many places, and experienced so much of life..  Once again she smiled again in her self-knowledge that her stories were all true.  Sitting there she thought about one of the stories best friend  always told:

     Dreamer picked up Tony, who was beating his wife, by the throat, his feet were dangling off the ground. She was yelling at him.

     "You want to pick on someone, why don't you pick on someone a little closer to your own size.. Go ahead hit me jerk. I'm not scared of you. I will put you in jail so fast your head will spin.. Come on show me what a real man you are now."

     Dreamer kept egging him on.. keeping him cornered away from his wife as she tried to get a few things to leave with, clothes and such.  Of course he didn't hit her.  After all, Dreamer had to be crazier than him.

     "You are a real man now huh?..Come on!..Come on... hit me.. " She yelled in his face urging him on.

     The funny part was she had been dressed in a barbarian costume for Halloween. He kept knocking her down and she kept jumping back up like a clown punching bag. Still screaming at him.  Keeping him away.. But he never hit her.

     The only part of the story was that Dreamer really didn't believe herself was that she had lifted him off the ground with one hand... Seemed a bit too super human to her, even on a good tequila night.  Then again anger can cause you to do strange things.  Michelle always forgot to tell the part of what sent Dreamer over the edge.

     Not only was Michelle only 5 foot 2 and 110 pounds, but the first thing he did, after he bashed her into a brick wall, was crush her glasses so she couldn't see to fight back. To Dreamer, that was just fighting too dirty.

     Michelle and her mother told that story as witnesses over and over to other people. Both swearing she did have him lofted in the air .. "Dreamer the Barbarian" they had dubbed her. These stories of her fight and super human strength didn't help Dreamer's love life much. Dreamer often tried to deter her friend's story telling, especially around guys, but never did. To Michelle she was some kind of hero..

     She again smiled deeply thinking about it.  That the loser had been too scared to hit her. The whole thing had been in vain though, as her friend packed her bags that night, going back to him again a couple days later. Her expression changed dramatically as she remembered the pains that man put Michelle's family though.. He beat her repeatedly as her children watched.

     A couple years later Dreamer had to testify in court that she had seen this numerous times and that she had been told by his sister, that his father had beat his mother too.  So sad, because the guy always seemed to get away with it. Even to the point of him burning his son's face with a cigarette..  No telling what things he did to her daughter.   Just too sad, she thought.  If only her friend hadn't gone back that time.

     She remembered how nervous and fidgety he became when he seen her walk into the court house, the day she was to testify.  He knew the truth, that she was the only one that really knew him and what he had done.  She alone invoked fear in the man.  This gave Dreamer and her friend Michelle, a little pleasure.  Though justice would have given them both more pleasure..  But the court's lawyers and judges seemed well paid.  The system failed.  But at least he couldn't have any contact with her son until he had counseling.  Both women, Dreamer and Michelle, knew he would never do that.  So basically Michelle's family was as close to free of him as they were ever to get.

     "Dreamer the Barbarian" she spoke aloud.  She smiled wryly and giggled softly while shaking her head slightly to herself.  The spoken words seemed to have a magical, pleasant, memory that comforted her in some way.

     Funny how domestic she had become.  How different her life was now.  She sighed heavily.  It was the first time in her life that she was void of excitement.  Her life actually seemed dull in comparison.  She was tamed.

     Dreamer sat at the keyboard of her computer in her office.  She paused for a moment and looked up to see a pair of Beanie Foxes she had bought. Yes, tamed she was.  Just like the Little Fox in the story of "The Little Prince" that a friend had sent her all the way from Israel.  It seemed that they were looking back at her just waiting for her.   Kind of like her real dogs. Always waiting for just a movement of some kind, to raise their heads and respond to.

     Dreamer had lived an interesting youth.  Not that she would ever want to go back in time, but sometimes it now left her bored and saddened. Her life seemed dull and void of any of the colorful experiences it once held..

     One thing she had learned was that you have to make your own excitement in life.. You have to find your own dragons to fight, your own crusades worth fighting for, your own love, and your own miracles.  You had to find your own peace with the world and self.  Somehow that was her meaning to life..   It reminded her of a Song she used to enjoy as a child.

     A teen-aged Dreamer sat at the organ in her parents home. Flipping through the pages of sheet music. She wished she could play as well as her mother. But she had her favorite songs. The ones she loved the best. She rummaged though the pile till she found both of her favorites. She sat the music on the music stand in front of her. These two had special meaning to her. They were her inspiration, her passion for some reason. It was reflected in the way she played them. She played them over and over. Especially when no one was around.

     She opened the first sheet of music. The starting notes of "The Impossible Dream" From Man a LaMancha sprung forth from her fingers.. She practically had it memorized.

     "....This is my quest to follow the star, no matter how hopeless no matter how far. To fight for the right with out question or pause. To be willing to march into Hell for the heavenly cause. ..."

     Her heart soared as she played it and sang it's words.

     She didn't know then how important those words were to her. How many times she would follow that impossible dream.

     Her skill on that song filled the air to a grand crescendo and then faded back to the humility of the quest.   The music swelled.. Her passion was easily heard in her voice as she sang the words . She was so talented this young girl.

     Always the Dreamer. Always battling her dragons whether invisible or not.. She knew even then that she was different that her passions would rule her life..

     Finally finished and satisfied with the song she paused.  Sitting back pleased with herself and how good it sounded that time.. Very few mistakes. That was her goal to play it through perfect..

     There were only a few songs she could do better than her mom.  Her mom was really good with the pedals.   She silently admired her talent. Dreamer would love to watch her mother play.   She would stand beside her and sing with her, as she played. Sometimes Dreamer would just listen and watch her mom's feet fly across the pedals in a rhythm she never could accomplish herself.

     She opened the other sheet of music. Exodus. It was the theme song from a movie. Again it was the words that moved her. The passion of the lyrics. God gave this land, God gave this land to me. This wide and wondrous land to me... Passion again filled her. This one too, she played with the crescendo that it deserved. She rarely sang it. This ones feeling were in the music. She didn't know it was passion driving the feeling. She just relished it and became part of the feeling of the song.

     Dreamer was always more of a spiritual person. It wasn't just her music it was her thoughts. The things she did and thought when she was alone. She always questioned life.

     She wondered why people chose to do the things they did.  While younger she always questioned why the kids in school had picked on her so bad.  Why they wanted to do the mean things they did to her. What made them that way..  Just this sort of  thinking alone, seemed to be what made her different..  Most people didn't seem  to care.  Dreamer always had very strong emotions, one of which made her cry easily..  This made her an easy target for the other kids.  They claimed the reason was always said it was the way she just looked at them...

     She was the first to admit she was a watcher.  She watched other people and what they did, how they interacted.  She always felt like she was looking in at them from somewhere else.   Scary thing was that even as a kid she knew she was different. She seen it herself in her eyes when she looked at pictures of herself.  Deep thinking even as a child.