A Dream Within a Dream

The sun lowered ever so slightly over Charleston Harbor as day yielded to night. The passion of the early spring sunset was nothing compared to the beauty of my bride, yet, side by side, my heart stood still as the sun slipped ever so slightly beneath the horizon.  Sitting adjacent to Charleston Battery, my glance fixated on a beautiful pink house facing East Bay Street. While enchantment eased into the moist March air, I fell into a daydream. It was a daydream befitting the fanciful surroundings that had made Charleston the belle of the South since its founding. As my eyes drew heavy...suddenly...

The Dream

I found myself strolling along the streets of 1820’s Charleston. Directly above, a beauty beckoned me with an enticing wave from the third floor balcony of an eighteenth century mansion. I tipped my hat and swung my cane full circle, stopping to address such a marvel to the human eye.



Within the Dream

Our first encounter was chance and occurred at the home of Charles Edmonston, a wealthy Charleston merchant. I had only been in town a short week when, through a mutual friend, I was introduced to him. As it was, Charles was having a dinner party the following Friday evening and asked for my presence so that he may introduce me to other merchants and tradesmen. I was obliged to attend.



Walking into Charles’s home, I knew immediately he was a man of prominence. As I checked my overcoat at the door, I entered a world previously unknown to me. A scholar from the north, I was comfortable with the traditions of the wealthy, however, the charms of the south were not yet in my mastery. Easing into the comfort of a fine brandy, I sipped sparingly while taking in the beautiful sights and sounds from all those in attendance. A stroll on the third floor balcony to clear my head granted me the exclusive opportunity to speak with a maiden only the heavens could craft.



She dressed elegantly in a satin gown trimmed in lace. Her sun-kissed locks of golden hair hugged her alabaster skin and framed her silhouette, which danced in the southern moonlight. My glance was immediate and intense. She felt my eyes scour her being and, with some timidity, returned my favor. Our souls were speaking with obsession and yet our lips remained still. The tranquility was broken with the faint sound of a crossing wind ruffling the leaves of a Palmetto nearby. My heart racing, I introduced myself to the most relevant woman I had ever known. She responded in like fashion and offered her delicate hand for my attention. Lowering my lips in service, I was overwhelmed with her aroma and aroused by her softness. All that separated us now was the beam fashioned by the moon overhead.

Knowing the night was near end, for her carriage awaited, I successfully arranged another encounter the following evening at the plantation of the second Henry Middleton, a friend of my father’s and my most gracious host while I was in Charleston. My love's agreement was hesitant but as she departed she whispered her approval. I had the next day to arrange our engagement and I began immediately.



Traveling the grounds of Middleton Place, I was astounded by the floral presentations and richness of color. The early spring hues resonated with seasonal precision and earthly perfection. I settled on a clearing surrounded by fragrant daffodils, azaleas, tea olives, and roses. Inside the clearing, I laid a woolen blanket next to a pallid statue of a partially covered young woman. Minister Middleton’s attendants prepared a feast while I sat in seclusion painfully preparing a poem of expression. My toiling resulted in the creation of a dark love sonnet that I planned to deliver while we dined under the moon.



My love arrived by carriage at exactly half past six in the evening. Her driver escorted her to my arm and retired to a nearby carriage house to chaperone. Hand in hand, I presented the glorious gardens of Middleton Place to the object of my affection. Sitting in stillness, a swan gracefully swam past and attended to her young. She was resilient in yellow silk. Her cobalt eyes contrasted perfectly with a purple rose just over her shoulder. Our dinner was expertly prepared and we enjoyed each course as once again day yielded to night. I took the hand of my newly beloved and led her to the carriage house making sure we traveled the long road. As I recited my love sonnet, my companion remained quiet and uttered not one word.  We simply sat in silence admist God's glorious creations.



As my lady’s chariot waited, I bid farewell with a tender kiss on her right cheek. Upon departure, I felt empty solitude known only within the depths of true love. Retiring to my slumber, I knew my heart had found its home, lost deep within the Carolina pines so far from any land I had ever known.



The Dream

Removing my hat for a gentle bow, my love called down from our third floor balcony with a late-afternoon lemonade proposal no self-respecting reformed northerner could refuse. As my wife handed me a glass, we toasted the beauty of the crimson sunset slowly enveloping Charleston Harbor. My eyes closed with my bride’s head resting slightly on my shoulder.



…waking suddenly, I found the sun just beginning to set over Charleston Harbor. Fort Sumter glimmered in the haze while the rhythmic cadence of a horse-drawn carriage could be heard ever so faintly in the background. 

The salty sea air quickly reminded me of the present, yet the setting remained as timeless as the swaying of the palms. In the words of Edgar Allen Poe, “All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.”