actually, it came this morning as i was waking up. it was the viscous sort of dream that clung to me as i moved in and out of consciousness, finding me each time i slipped back into sleep after a brief surfacing.
you were sent to seattle for a conference and hung out with me the first night you were here. i wasn't surprised--that's too strong of a word--but i noticed right away how young you were. early twenties. clean-shaven. short-ish hair that kind of stood up on your head but was long enough to bounce around as you moved. while you felt youthful and naive and green, you were also tired and broken and we didn't talk but i just held you for a long time. and i can't remember the words you used, but they were simple and small. communicating a weariness and gratitude and warmth.
then the dream broke into chaos. another dream intertwined itself with ugly colors and violence. some people were figuring out how to create the electric charges/weapon that the emperor from star wars used. it sounds silly in writing, but was rather terrifying in the dream. i somehow knew this older woman who seemed to be in the forefront of the experimentation would age quickly and become the emperor and that while we thought it was a man all this time, in truth it was this evil woman. our friend wanted me to help fight them. they had killed one of our own. he had guns and strong words of encouragement but i found some wrapped up 100 bills that were also drugs and i was wary and distrustful, and realized, too, that if i helped him i wouldn't be able to meet you one last timeas we had planned. i think somewhere in this chapter, too, was the attempt for my scene partner and i to recreate our final scene from class. but we didn't have the props and the teacher was being hard on us adding one more layer of the chaos.
but i escaped. and had to go see you. i wasn't sure when your conference was ending but i hadn't seen you in days.
i went to the hotel. was wandering around the ground floor, walked through the restaurant and passed you without noticing. i heard you call me. you were seated at a table of co-workers. all men. the guy to your left was this curly and dark-haired man with a full beard and sparkly eyes. he jumped right in with jokes and such and i realized you two were good chums. i joked he was your partner in crime.
then you said you were leaving the next day and didn't have time to hang out. that didn't feel right somehow. you knew i was catching on to you so you said goodbye, gave me a hug and then got up from the table and went into the men's room. i felt your evasion, a need to be anonymous and hide and refuse care when it was right in front of you, quietly waiting. somehow xxxx xxxxxxxxx were also an excuse, you needed to go home and care for them, but we both knew that was just that: another excuse. so i tried to follow you but you stood in the door way half in, half out. hedging. distant. longing. i was helpless in my desire to be there for you when you had all these ways of evading me despite what you yourself wanted and needed. you knew what was offered in my time and friendship, and you couldn't go there. you didn't want to risk.
and that's when the dream ended. or thereabouts. inconclusive and frustrating.
i'm not sure why i write all this except that i've been internally pushed since i woke up to tell you about it. i've tried a few times to distract myself {even bummed around facebook, caught up on the internet after being away for a weekend, etc), but any time i started to get too far away from myself or this dream, i would resolutely draw myself back in and continue writing. this had to be told. you have to know.
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