Last Night’s Dream

My youngest son ran off across the park
I thought he won’t go far
He crossed the bridge
Over a large pond, the water almost black
I am screaming now, Stop!
Too late, he falls in
With me a second behind him
I dive in, fully clothed, visibility poor
I could just make out
the form of a small body
Grabbing hold of an arm
Letting go swiftly, telling myself
Not that one, he’s dead
Grabbing a second floating arm
I pulled my son to the surface
I gave him my breath
Pushed against his heart
So limp in my arms but alive
Later I got to wondering
Did I save a soul from a different lifeline?
As my own son has never fallen in a pond
He is in his fifties now and doing well…

© anita dawes 2020