The Waves
I went to the river bank everyday whenever I could. The place I went to was lonely. The river water was pure and the sun light reflected, sent rays of pearls to my eyes. I used to watch the quiet and short waves for hours. I was watching the water because I was waiting for something. I went there everyday because I was sure something was waiting for me. I felt it when I watched the waves. They moved with me whenever I changed my place. It was as if the waves were saying: Don’t give up, come back and wait, it won’t be long. Then the water gave me a wave. Something I can’t define came over me in waves. A wave of emotion sparked off in me and a woman appeared on the horizon. She came nearer and I saw how the water made her hair curl but down. Then she stood before me with tears dropping from her eyes. Her body was shivering from cold. She was wearing a light green dress which stuck to her slender body.

"Was the woman that something I was waiting for?" I wondered, and if so "why was I so helpless?" I asked. Our eyes met for some time and we kept looking without exchanging a word. No, I know I wanted to say something but I waited too long. Then she disappeared and I was left alone. Her disappearance drove me mad. I waited and begged her to come back but the waves stopped moving. When the night fell I went back home shivering and ran a temperature. The shivering didn’t stop and I cried: please, beach wrap me. They wrapped me in white cloth and took me to the river bank. From below the ground I heard the waves start moving again.

Comments

When I was reading your text, I forgot for a moment where I was, Jamshid. I was following this woman and this man in this beach, without voyeurism, like in a movie. (Talking about a movie, it reminds me of "un homme et une femme, de François Truffaut). I was daydreaming.

Then, I read your comments about this woman: "is she a real one?" I woke up. Should she be a real one?
I liked this story with a ghost, a shade or a phantom. I don't wish to know who she is neither the end of the story. She represents an ideal woman, a goddess, a dream that we never reach. Maybe she is all these things; maybe she is ephemeral in our material world.

Continue your search, Jamshid in order to share with us your impressions and dreams. At least you have a goal in life: looking for the ideal woman. Meanwhile, I feel sorry for your sadness. Good luck!

The woman seems somewhat realistic to me but at the same time also like a dream.
"Then she stood before me with tears dropping from her eyes. Her body was shivering from cold."
This gives her real characteristics that I don't think of ghosts or dream figurines to have. Such as shivering or crying.
I do agree though, that it really doesn't matter much if she is real or not. She's as important either way.

This little passage reads spiritual transgression or physical transition from life to death, or maybe from a limited material dimension into an ephemeral eternity. It is a metamorhosis which is needed in order for you to attain that inner balance that we all need. The sea is boundless, its shivering waves could symbolize groping figments of our imagination. Wrapped up in waves you find shelter - or refuge - in them, but life is cold and motionless, while death is warm and rewarding. It sets frozen waves in motion. It should be the other way around, shouldn't it? Beneath the river bank everything should be cold, silent, and dark. But no, the white shroud you're embedded in is a good omen, like a white dress to a bride: it means the trespassing into another dimension, the wedding of an ideal, of a dream - of a 'fata morgana'.
They say that only in death we will find comfort.

I think I met her. And if not her, then definitely her twin sister. The descritption fits perfectly, to the last detail. Except I´ve never really seen her face, she never bothered to turn around. She was my silent friend, a magnet fascinating my tired eyes. There were times I wished I were a man to be able to love her. Although I could only see her back, her hair and her dress, I believe she observed me closely. She was there guiding me through the no-man´s-land hours, the night still not properly dead and the morning not born yet, between 2 and 4 a.m., the time when people are close to the Unkown or God or whatever else you might call it. I could feel her eye pinned on the back of my T-shirt when I was listening to other women crying about their lost lovers and chirping like birds about the new ones. She smelled my late night coffee, but never dared say: "A bit less sugar,baby." I was an intruder in her world, but she accepted me and I learned to like her.

Her picture was pinned to the wall right over my table. She was working night shifts with me for over two years. I left her without a word, looking for a bright new world and I think she was slightly mad at me. If you see her in your dreams, try to ask for absolution, absolution rather than forgiveness, as I´m not going back there.
If I had known you were friends, I´d have said hello.