Selling Dreams
by Charlene Anderson
Once there was a woman named Wilhelmina who sold dreams. Some people were foolish enough to buy them, falsely believing they could enjoy and even gain insight from them. But gradually her customers began to realize they weren’t getting anything, either entertaining or instructive out of those store-bought dreams, and business slacked off. So getting a little desperate and low on cash, Wilhelmina determined to try a new approach.
One sunny morning she dashed out of her house and ran through the streets, brown hair flopping and beige dress flying behind her. “Come buy my dreams,” she yelled. “Hot off the presses, straight from my dream-world to yours. These dreams don’t just entertain you. They change things.” As she ran, she scattered fliers around her.
“Look at me,” she cried to anyone who would listen. “I used to have brown hair. Now it’s blonde,” and suddenly with a glint of sunshine, it actually was.” I used to wear dowdy clothes and now I have elegant threads.” Her plain dress brightened and now had sequins all up and down the sides. They glittered and sparkled in the sun.
She kept running. She kept looking better. So by the time she reached a nearby streetlight and paused, she had a small crowd with her, gazing up in awe at her.
“Can your dreams really do that, I mean, change things?” a short, bald man asked shyly. “I’d like to be taller and have some hair.”
“And I’d like to be older so I could leave home and get away from my pesky sister,” declared a pretty 17-year-old girl.
“And I want to be smarter, so when I grow up, I can get into MIT,” exclaimed a bright-looking 12-year-old boy.
Wilhelmina didn’t answer any of their questions. Hoping to keep them curious and intrigued, she simply gestured to them and the rest of her entourage to follow her into a small park nearby. Still looking dazzling and even a trace magical in the bright sun, Wilhelmina graciously accepted their money, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” then handed a sealed envelope out to each person. “Don’t open the envelopes or the dreams will escape,” she cautioned. “Put them under your pillows tonight and tomorrow your life will change, exactly according to what you want.” She laughed, twirled around in her still-resplendent dress and scurried away.
The next afternoon those same ten or so people gathered in the park again. Still looking spectacularly blonde and wearing her russet colored dress sprinkled with stars, Wilhelmina looked at them. “How did it go?” she said.
“As you can see,” the short bald man whose name was Derrick said, “I haven’t grown an inch or a single sprig of hair.” He rubbed his bald pate and frowned.
“And I’m no more than one day older and so can’t escape my tiresome sister,” said Maggie, the 17-year-old wannabe adult.
“And I had a math test this morning and got my usual C-, so I’m no smarter,” Arnold, the 12-year-old complained, glaring up at her with one small hand fisted against his hip. “So much for MIT.”
The others moaned and groaned. “Yeah, no change here,” “Here neither.” “I haven’t gotten one cent richer, thank you very much.” And so it went.
Wilhelmina shook her head. “I’m sure it wasn’t my excellent dreams that are at fault. Some of you must have opened the envelopes and peeked inside or else you weren’t specific enough about what you asked for.” She smiled as though forgiving them. “So the only solution is to buy more dreams and try again tonight. But of course, since my dream stockpile is getting low, they’ll be a little more expensive now.”
“No way that I’m doing that,” Derrick said. He stood up straight and felt, and may even have appeared, a little taller.
“My sister isn’t that bad,” Maggie said. “Maybe I can hold on a little longer and since my parents are so strict, I don’t have enough allowance to pay your exorbitant prices either.”
“And anyway,” Arnold yelped, “you’re tricking us.” He turned and looked around at the now very attentive crowd. “Hey, I saw that,” he gloated. “I saw it and understood it. So maybe I am a little smarter, if not at math, then in some other ways.” He threw his arm up above his head in triumph.
“I’ll take my parents up on their offer of moving into the den in the basement,” Maggie nodded to herself. “That way I won’t have to keep sharing with my sister and, with a room of my own, it’ll be a little bit like leaving home.” She clapped her hands.
Derrick didn’t say anything. He was too busy exchanging shy looks with a woman of about his own age and size. She wasn’t bald, but she did have a pronounced widow’s peak that doubtless hadn’t made her popular among the handsomer men in town.
“Hi, I’m Eloise,” she told Derrick, clasping her hands together.
Derrick’s left eyebrow raised. He ran his hands through his invisible hair. “Derrick,” he said, finally managing to swallow.
He smiled. She smiled. Everybody else jumped around and laughed for joy.
Wilhelmina’s hair began to fade back to mousy brown. Her dress lost its richness and the embedded stars sank away to darkness and nothingness. Silently, she turned and with one last look behind her, slipped away.
One sunny morning she dashed out of her house and ran through the streets, brown hair flopping and beige dress flying behind her. “Come buy my dreams,” she yelled. “Hot off the presses, straight from my dream-world to yours. These dreams don’t just entertain you. They change things.” As she ran, she scattered fliers around her.
“Look at me,” she cried to anyone who would listen. “I used to have brown hair. Now it’s blonde,” and suddenly with a glint of sunshine, it actually was.” I used to wear dowdy clothes and now I have elegant threads.” Her plain dress brightened and now had sequins all up and down the sides. They glittered and sparkled in the sun.
She kept running. She kept looking better. So by the time she reached a nearby streetlight and paused, she had a small crowd with her, gazing up in awe at her.
“Can your dreams really do that, I mean, change things?” a short, bald man asked shyly. “I’d like to be taller and have some hair.”
“And I’d like to be older so I could leave home and get away from my pesky sister,” declared a pretty 17-year-old girl.
“And I want to be smarter, so when I grow up, I can get into MIT,” exclaimed a bright-looking 12-year-old boy.
Wilhelmina didn’t answer any of their questions. Hoping to keep them curious and intrigued, she simply gestured to them and the rest of her entourage to follow her into a small park nearby. Still looking dazzling and even a trace magical in the bright sun, Wilhelmina graciously accepted their money, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” then handed a sealed envelope out to each person. “Don’t open the envelopes or the dreams will escape,” she cautioned. “Put them under your pillows tonight and tomorrow your life will change, exactly according to what you want.” She laughed, twirled around in her still-resplendent dress and scurried away.
The next afternoon those same ten or so people gathered in the park again. Still looking spectacularly blonde and wearing her russet colored dress sprinkled with stars, Wilhelmina looked at them. “How did it go?” she said.
“As you can see,” the short bald man whose name was Derrick said, “I haven’t grown an inch or a single sprig of hair.” He rubbed his bald pate and frowned.
“And I’m no more than one day older and so can’t escape my tiresome sister,” said Maggie, the 17-year-old wannabe adult.
“And I had a math test this morning and got my usual C-, so I’m no smarter,” Arnold, the 12-year-old complained, glaring up at her with one small hand fisted against his hip. “So much for MIT.”
The others moaned and groaned. “Yeah, no change here,” “Here neither.” “I haven’t gotten one cent richer, thank you very much.” And so it went.
Wilhelmina shook her head. “I’m sure it wasn’t my excellent dreams that are at fault. Some of you must have opened the envelopes and peeked inside or else you weren’t specific enough about what you asked for.” She smiled as though forgiving them. “So the only solution is to buy more dreams and try again tonight. But of course, since my dream stockpile is getting low, they’ll be a little more expensive now.”
“No way that I’m doing that,” Derrick said. He stood up straight and felt, and may even have appeared, a little taller.
“My sister isn’t that bad,” Maggie said. “Maybe I can hold on a little longer and since my parents are so strict, I don’t have enough allowance to pay your exorbitant prices either.”
“And anyway,” Arnold yelped, “you’re tricking us.” He turned and looked around at the now very attentive crowd. “Hey, I saw that,” he gloated. “I saw it and understood it. So maybe I am a little smarter, if not at math, then in some other ways.” He threw his arm up above his head in triumph.
“I’ll take my parents up on their offer of moving into the den in the basement,” Maggie nodded to herself. “That way I won’t have to keep sharing with my sister and, with a room of my own, it’ll be a little bit like leaving home.” She clapped her hands.
Derrick didn’t say anything. He was too busy exchanging shy looks with a woman of about his own age and size. She wasn’t bald, but she did have a pronounced widow’s peak that doubtless hadn’t made her popular among the handsomer men in town.
“Hi, I’m Eloise,” she told Derrick, clasping her hands together.
Derrick’s left eyebrow raised. He ran his hands through his invisible hair. “Derrick,” he said, finally managing to swallow.
He smiled. She smiled. Everybody else jumped around and laughed for joy.
Wilhelmina’s hair began to fade back to mousy brown. Her dress lost its richness and the embedded stars sank away to darkness and nothingness. Silently, she turned and with one last look behind her, slipped away.
