A Rare Dragon Made of Dreams

I knew him on sight. Rugged, muscular, disheveled, sad. Sunglasses hid his eyes.

“You must be Grant.” I hugged him with all my strength.

“I’m sorry, I’m so dirty. I climbed to the tallest pine on her property this morning and spread her ashes. She begged me to teach her how to climb that tree.” He reminded me of a tree, tall and sturdy.

We cried as I whispered, “I can’t imagine what you experienced. I hurt for you.”

Those of us who loved her had finally gathered to say goodbye. It had been a long eight months waiting out a deadly pandemic, yet allowing her mother and brother enough time to sort out her affairs. Under canvas umbrellas on the patio of her favorite restaurant, we hoisted our cold beers with a panoramic view of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, her beloved backyard. It was time to tell her stories. It was time to promise we would never forget what she meant to us.

***

When I entered her classroom for the first time that summer of 2005, I was knocked over by a blast of magic dust. I gazed upon a natural, timeless beauty who appeared to have lived her life travelling the world on a mission to unlock its secrets. She presented a magnificent vision in a floor-length purple skirt, a gauzy pink blouse, and a lavender daisy tucked into a long brown side braid. Her room smelled of the earth, a mixture of garden snakes and furry rodents tamed by the scent of an exotic incense. A timid Sheltie licked my hand. I had entered her world.

She unfolded her long, athletic frame from the wooden chair behind her metal desk and glided over to me with a warm, outstretched hand. Her fifth-grade classroom for gifted learners was like being in a National Geographic science camp, filled with creativity, discovery, and challenge. I soon learned that her artistic genes sifted down from a famous Spanish muralist. I wanted to paint her.

“I’m Anita. How kind of you to welcome me. Tell me about yourself.” When Anita looked at me, her piercing blue eyes bore into my soul, rendering me helpless against any worries or outside distractions. Her smile was like catching fireflies in a jar; its light lingered. I was the most important person to her in that moment. Her students eventually became the most loved little humans in her life.

I also knew that her disarming power of unconditional love would become Anita’s self-fulfilling poison. Those of us on campus who grew to love her had the antidote, but she wouldn’t drink it.

***

“Those ridiculous clothes.”

“The way she throws those big words around.”

“Her room is disgusting. So much clutter. And those awful rodents.”

“She’s clueless.”

“She’s weird.”

Day after day, the staff room slithered with a small group of venomous teachers waiting to strike. Day after day, I watched Anita fix their computers, install the latest educational programs, and jump at their digital demands. Day after day, I sang Anita’s praises as I passed the staff pit into the copy room. They only hissed back louder.

“Anita, why are you so eager to be liked by that insecure group of jealous teachers who clearly ridicule you? Document the abuse and fight back.” This became my weekly mantra.

“I can’t. I’m not as strong as you. Besides, I help them because of the children.”

“I ache for you. You are the best teacher on this campus. You should be appreciated for the rare butterfly that you are, for the fabulous ways you inspire all the children on this campus.”

For nine years, Anita was by my side, helping me with my mentoring and cultural programs; I was by her side with her talent show and student council programs. She gave me wings. She was my magic.

There is a picture of us at my retirement party. I’m leaning over, looking at the pictures her students painted for me. She radiates the innocent look of a child at Christmas, full of wonder. So excited. For me.

“What will I do without you?” Anita wore her feelings on her face.

“Anita, we will always be friends. Nothing will keep us apart.” I meant it.

***

On an unusually warm winter day in late November of 2020, Grant and Anita enjoyed a motorcycle caravan over the summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. I still imagine her sun-kissed hair flapping like Tibetan prayer flags out of her helmet, her perfect white teeth sparkling from the sun’s glare. She is happy. She is free. She is loved.

Grant didn’t see her in his rearview mirror. He pulled off at Cisco Grove. He waited. He worried. He whipped his bike around to find her. When he approached the summit, he saw the emergency vehicles. He threw his motorcycle onto the soft shoulder and ran, following the prayer flags that floated back to him. It was too late. Anita’s prayers disintegrated like ancient scrolls, crumbling through his clenched fingers.

Anita came to me in a dream not long after the accident. I was back at work, railing at the teachers who wouldn’t see her value, when I felt an incredible warmth behind me. I ran into her arms and collapsed at her feet. I grabbed her hands and told her how much I loved her, how much I missed her. When I looked up to see her face, she was a blinding explosion of refracted light. In a flash, she became the most iridescent creature I had ever seen. She was the dragon of all dragons—a lavender, pink, and purple beauty exuding power, femininity, and love. She lowered her graceful head and nudged me to mount her. I felt her soft scales and warm skin along my bare legs. She reared up as I grabbed onto her formidable ears. Anita’s peaceful spirit intensified the higher we climbed.

I woke up sobbing tears of joy.

***

Months after Anita’s Celebration of Life, a mutual friend asked me to go through some of Anita’s stored boxes. The district ordered the custodial staff to dispose of them before the 2022 school year began. Mily begged me to come back to the school to help her search through the last of Anita’s belongings.

“Oh, Mily, I just can’t do it. I can’t go back to the place where she was so disrespected.”

“Don’t you want to find something to keep of hers?” Mily’s voice cracked with emotion.

“I have her gifts from our time together. I even saved her phone messages.” The thought of going back on that campus made me nauseous.

Since school was out for the summer, Mily promised me that we would be the only teachers on campus. I relented because Anita and I adored Mily.

I hadn’t been back since the day I retired six years before. Mily greeted me at the gate with a bear hug; we walked back to her classroom arm-in-arm. She unlocked the door to the adjacent classroom that used to be the computer lab. In the corner of the room, boxes were piled as if they had been thrown against the wall—bent, crushed, splitting at the seams. I grabbed Mily’s arm and held my breath. I thought, Even Anita’s things were treated poorly.

We removed each box from the pile as if it contained precious jewels. It took us a good hour to sift through worn stuffed animals, file folders full of Anita’s creative lessons, trinkets used for class rewards, books, books, and more books. When I reached the last large box, I dug through stacks of student papers. At the bottom, I felt picture frames and a plastic mold.

“Oh, Mily, look at these adorable photos of Anita with her students. Look at the way her students looked at her. So much love and respect. I must get them to her mother. Even her teaching credentials and her Teacher of the Year plaques are here.” My eyes were so blurred by tears, I could barely see the last item in the box. Mily hugged me, then took her cell phone outside to talk to her daughter. I wiped my face with a wet paper towel and continued to the final piece.

Clear-eyed, I reached down and pulled out the most exquisite model of a dragon I had ever seen. Just like in my dream, it was irridescent in lavender, purple, and pink. The scales were soft, the face held high like a goddess. The tail curved like a stairway to Heaven.

When Mily returned, I couldn’t speak. We sat on the floor with the dragon between us, so I could eventually find my words. Mily patiently listened as I relived my Anita dream in a slow, other-worldly rhythm, describing the exact dragon on display in front of us.

She said, “I did feel a weird urgency to have you here with me today. I knew something other than wanting to see you was pulling me to bring you to these boxes.”

Cradling the dragon to my heart, I said, “Anita, you are home.”