Dream

May wiped the sweat from her forehead, groped for a water bottle, and took a long drink. She continued to grab the hoe and dug into the bamboo roots as big as winnowing baskets. The sun was high in the sky, her breasts were full of milk but aching. Perhaps at this moment, Chi was crying for his mother.

May stopped, looked around, gently lifted her thin bra, used her left hand to gently rub her breasts, hot milk was about to flow out. But she couldn't squeeze it, the snake caught the scent of the milk and crawled into the field. That's what the old people said.

Illustration: Duong Van Chung.

The fields were cleared in the dry season last year and then burned. After only a few spring rains, the grass grew lushly. The young shoots of the bamboo and reeds sprouted profusely. Clumps of wild vines spread out in large areas. Clumps of hungry roots dug into the ash to enjoy themselves. May noticed a strange vine, with leaves as big as the mouth of a bowl, the vines were green and had a layer of fine white hair. There were two vines, intertwined, one big, one small, one short, one long. May used her hoe to dig into the two vines. Immediately two streams of pink sap flowed out, and after only a minute, they condensed into two crimson blood clots. May felt restless. For some reason, even plants and grasses were entangled and entwined with each other…

May stopped, using her feet to move her shadow on the fresh brown ground, as if hearing the earth eagerly calling and promising. This was the most beautiful field in the nearly three hectares of forest of the project, a courtesy to May and her husband. While waiting for the cajuput and cajuput trees to grow, she had to take the opportunity to sow corn and rice seeds.

The sun was round and shiny. May hid her hoe in the vine on the edge of the field that was full of yellow flowers. The colorful butterflies were playing with the flowers or each other, it was unclear whether they were playing with each other or not. May did not want to look at them, just as she did not want to look at those wild vines.

Coming down to the deserted stream, May took off her clothes and jumped in, letting the water squeeze her burning hot body. There was a wild banana flower from above that fell into the water, right in front of May. May didn't care, letting the petals spread out, floating carelessly on the water's surface. There was a pair of red-whiskered bulbuls on a high branch, preening each other's still wet feathers, wondering what they were saying to each other. Suddenly May felt annoyed. She took a quick shower, put on her clothes, and went ashore. The way back had to follow a section of the stream. This stream, people have always called it the White Stream because its water is very clear. The bottom is full of pure white pebbles. The girls in the village all have white skin because of bathing in this stream. May suddenly looked down at her round thighs. Looking behind, where there was a curvaceous butt that her grandmother often said: Beautiful but difficult to give birth. Indeed, Chi struggled inside May's belly for a whole day and night before finally coming out. In the heart-wrenching pain, May still remembered her grandmother's words.

One day, May turned her face away to avoid Sinh's strong alcohol smell. Sinh knelt down, put his arms around her, hugged her and swore and promised. He swore to heaven and earth that he would marry her. The gentle wind was enough to dry May's tears, leaving only a sob. Then the wind also swept the promises up to the sky...

The six-month-old Chi, hungry, grabbed the breast, sucked it vigorously, his round, black eyes staring straight into his mother's face without blinking. The remaining milk flowed down May's belly, splashing on Chi's legs. May felt much lighter, her nipples were tingling gently. Chi, full, dozed off, still sucking on her breast, occasionally taking a small sip. Milk flowed out of the corner of his mouth, spreading onto his plump, rosy, smooth cheeks.

Waiting for Chi to fall asleep, put him on the mattress, and pull up the mosquito net, May lit the fire to prepare rice. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs. May knew that Tap had returned from the buffalo drive. The man had a handsome, silly face, but sometimes May felt extremely disgusted. In the past, every time he had a fit of madness, Tap would come to May's stairs and sing songs that had no beginning or end, calling May's name like a shaman calling her soul back to her body. To May, a girl who was both beautiful and virtuous, and eighteen years old, that was not the case, but to many girls in this village, even though Tap was crazy, he was still very valuable. His family was the richest in the village, with countless buffaloes and cows. The terraced fields were built high, the low fields were covered with yellow mats as far as the eye could see. That was left by his grandparents and ancestors. Even more valuable was that he was an only child and had been able to study. The old people in the village said that because his father had cut down too much wood from the forest, he had cut down a tree with a spirit in it, so the spirit punished him to be foolish and lost his soul at the age of sixteen. Didn't his mother secretly go all the way to Luc Yen to invite a priest to perform a ritual for him? I heard that even many good priests were helpless.

While she was lost in thought, May was startled by the bundle of bamboo that Tap had thrown down next to the fire. He sat down, bent down to help his wife pick vegetables, looking strangely gentle. May looked at him and smiled. He also smiled shyly. May was remembering what happened last night. Last night, it was too late, May couldn't sleep. Seeing May stirring, Tap wrapped his arms around May's stomach. May turned around and looked at him angrily. How many times had it happened? How many times had May sobbed, felt angry, and angrily pushed his hand away. How many times had May left her bed and run out to the windy porch. But last night, for some reason, May didn't hold a grudge against him. She turned to Tap, pressed her lips to Tap's chest, and used all her youthful strength to press Tap's head tightly against her full chest. Tap lay still, not daring to breathe heavily. May searched for his hand, pulled it and placed it on the hottest part of her body. Since marrying May, for the first time, the man inside her woke up. Her body was burning hot as if she had a fever. Then she was excited like a dry land meeting rain. Then she was exhausted. Then she was exhausted. Like she had just finished raking a large field. But she thought he didn't know anything. Even the fact that Chi wasn't her son. Ignoring all the gossip and whispers, May married Tap, married a father for her son. When she got to Tap's house, May worked like crazy. The corn and rice in the basket were gnawed by worms day and night, but she still worked. Worked to forget.

Illustration: Duong Van Chung.

Not close, not talking. However, living together for a long time, they become familiar, they become nostalgic. Like this local person, when going far away, she misses the water trough, the jar of pickled bamboo shoots, the White Stream. Whenever her mother’s house had something to do, May would carry her child back, and after staying for less than a night, she already missed it. The vague nostalgia was like the sound of the Tinh zither that had passed through her ears since she was a girl. But the nostalgia kept urging, May eagerly returned to her husband’s house’s stairs, returned to a flood season when the Chay River was full of firewood and corpses. The season when her husband went crazy, jumping and singing. The Chay River was red and roaring, boiling, as if both banks were cracking. The season when the fire was her companion during the long lonely nights. It was the fire that warmed the hope in her. The persistent hope of a heart that knew how to love, knew how to regret mistakes. The hope followed May up the fields, down the streams, into her sleep…

May told Tap about her strange dream last night. After listening, Tap smiled gently. I had the same dream. It was a beautiful dream. Very beautiful. This summer, the Chay River was no longer fierce. The forest god withdrew his curse. By the window, Tap was whittling yarn, May was spinning silk. Tap sang for May to listen. Tap sang very well. The song had a beginning and an end. The song was about the happiness and love of young couples in the mountains. I wonder if that dream originated from a love of this simple and rustic life.

May's parents-in-law suddenly felt their meals more delicious than usual. Before getting up, they secretly exchanged glances. The glances were very strange. The young couple kept looking at each other, smiling throughout the meal. Their eyes kept intertwining like a pair of vines. Like a pair of birds, a pair of butterflies in the stream, in the fields. The fresh spring breeze blew in through the window, playing with the sun. Tap gently told his wife: Let's rest this afternoon. May nodded obediently, shyly gathering firewood to add to the blazing fire.

Source: https://baothainguyen.vn/van-nghe-thai-nguyen/202507/giac-mo-aeb1e11/