experienced a dream…this one had neon, and “She”

i was there, She, yes she was here. and why Richard was there i will never know. the colors were vibrantly over-colored, it was a vice city neon, to clean and warm… first we were on a boat, not doing a very good job of avoiding empty and abandoned nets. then she was gone again, and a lazy panic set in on me, a panic that one had forgotten something, that one had some important thing to see or hear, or do or say, yet that important thing was unattainable. Nixon sounded like peter jennings, was nice enough, but it was impossible to find from him where she had gone, or how i could conjure her back here so we could admire all of his estate… which was viced and citied and neoned and seen from an aerial view. whenever he showed me his collection of vases and concrete nude cherubs who according to him,  “used to pee all over, i don’t know what is wrong…” then i was away from there, restaurant nothing, beach where we had ditched the boat, nothing. keep in mind i still didn’t know for whom or what i was searching for. then like nothing had happened we were driving back to his mansion of neon and concrete, and we drove up where richard awaited near the pool and the cherubs with a cocktail in his hand. his shirt Hawaiian, and her voice comes in; never audible but in my head, i don’t mind this guy.

So many dreams, none stranger than any others perhaps.

i just wish that She wasn’t there, except when i am dreaming them. i wish She didn’t exist in them. would rather She not speak to me telepathically, because that is my inner dream voice, not hers… she invades it, invades my boats, and my cars in these places far too much for someone i haven’t seen in nearly a decade. a decade of thinking about her at least once per day, (something always triggers a thought of her) i think i allow her a way in there. as much as it’s torturous now, i need her there where everything is pleasant and warm, sometimes neon, most times no presidents at all…. but invariably as i navigate the world of dreams, she materializes and i am comforted there, i can feel her hand on mine, and i can even sometimes smell her, she never smiles as i never really see her face, but i know how it felt when she was around, and i am in the presence of my dream-her…

Not certain if i will ever be free of this, or if i ever Want that. i do know that when i am dreaming She is welcome, and as seen earlier even sought out… but in the waking world she is not sought out, desired, or loved by me except perhaps in a dreamy way, or some strange connection i must have to there, to the surreal past that once was an Us.

Published in: on January 17, 2012 at 12:42 pm  Leave a Comment  

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