A Series of Dreams
Lasmi

“Bu, the odor is up.” Seruni came out of the bathroom while grasping the odor that the packaging has been flattened. Looking at Lasmi, then Wisely with shame. “Aa, I go to the shop first.”

“Ish! Here!” Lasmi who was sitting in the living room with her husband and future daughter-in-law waved her hand. “Still there is it. Bring it here.”

For decades of hard life, Lasmi was accustomed to all the problems of life. From birth to this old age, he was already full of all difficulties. Which initially did not accept, is now at peace with the destiny of the Powerful.

“Rolled from below, Ni,” his word to the youngest who will soon be married to a businessman from the city. So the woman has to be smart. Life is like a wheel, sometimes on top, often on the bottom. If again below, must be smart to read the situation.” Glancing at Wisely, she hoped that the son-in-law could judge her policies as a mother.

“It's over, Mom. I picked it up already rolled half.” Seruni protest.

“Roll up to his neck, Ni. There's still that. Let alone the hand of Wise, for the hands of the village can still be.” Lasmi stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Before long, the woman had returned with a pair of scissors whose handles had been broken next to her. “Mana.” Stretching out her hands, the old woman was clenched. His heart was in a flowery state, constantly looking at the new pans and cauldrons placed on the living room table.

“In still there, Bu?” Sandi looked up from where she was sitting. “Buy just now, anyway want to use too, ‘kan?”

“Still. Tuh!” Lasmi put the scissor already on the table. Stretched it into sheets with a thick white paste sticking thin everywhere. “Pole and apply on the skin of the burn, Ni.”

Seruni hesitated. “What's potent, Bu?”

“Dijamin. It's a hereditary recipe from the days of my ancestors. Don't argue too much. Do it quickly, before the wound adds to.”

Seruni according. Sitting side by side in the long chair, hesitantly grasping the origin of Wisely's hand. Shame mixed nervously as the man's fingers came into contact with his fingers.

Wisely quietly watched. He watched the girl who was applying toothpaste on her hanging hands. Seruni's lentic finger looked agile dancing on her flushed skin.

“Sick, Aa?” seruni asked, suddenly raising her head. He was heartless when he found his patient silent a thousand languages.

His chest rippled, sudden irregular heartbeat. Wanting to throw away his gaze as far as possible, but something forced him to keep his eyes on the girl who was looking down and blowing a burn on her hand. At the tip of the nervousness, he felt his fingers and fingers Seruni almost interlocked.

His future wife is too serious to face burns that are not so much as not realizing that at the end of there their fingers are struggling with friendly greetings.

“If it is still sick, Aa to the doctor only. Fear is getting worse.” Seruni lowered the man's hand carefully after making sure all the flushed skin had been smeared with toothpaste.

“Ya.” Wisely is disappointed when her fingers and Seruni split up. Want to grip back the hand that has held his hand during the treatment action earlier. “I bought breakfast, yes. Only then return to Jakarta.”

Seruni. Not giving an answer, the old woman who had been listening quietly had exclaimed excitedly.

“Bby, Wise.” The shadow of a fancy restaurant that had only been passed by him all along. The opportunity to enjoy a dish that was previously only present in the shadows.

“We have breakfast chicken porridge near home,” said Sandi, giving an idea.

“Aduh, sir, why chicken porridge again. We used to eat chicken porridge wagon Mang Dadang. Not good with a potential ghost. The place is narrow, jostling and scrambling again. We better get to town. Near the market is a new restaurant. We have breakfast there.”

Sandi was dumbfounded, her eyes flickering repeatedly.

“Ni, let's get ready. Replace the clothes with a little neat. We'll have breakfast at the restaurant, not chicken porridge. Not good with Wisely. He's never eaten village chicken porridge. Where cheap anymore, a bowl of five thousand crackers abounds. Are you sure of your cleanliness?” Lasmi.

Again Sandi gawked. “During this time my stomach was fine receiving Mang Dadang chicken porridge. No complaints of stomach pain and so on. In fact, Mothers who subscribe there.”

“That's Dad, whose looks and stomach are used to it. This ‘kan different. Wise from the city. The food in his house is not the same as ours, sir. If up to Son Son-in-law diarrhea, how? Do you want responsibility?”