everything was exactly how it seemed...
I dreamed about you last night.
I supposed I should start by saying I thought about you last night, for the first time in days. Not that I hadn't thought about you at all, I actually do quite frequently, whenever I see your name, or things that remind me of you. But it's a fleeting race through my brain, accompanied by a snort, or a slight tightening of the facial muscles, .....or nothing at all. Nothing I allow myself to really feel.
But as I snuggled into the blankets and rubbed my head against the pillow, on the floor of my old bedroom, you settled like a fog in my brain, and the door in my heart swung open. The door behind which hides wishes, old memories, and a yawning, deep blackness, echoing of you, all of it.
So obviously this is what spawned the dream, though it took me quite a while to place all of this upon waking. In fact, I didn't remember it at all at first, until some minutes passed and it dawned on me, and I spent the rest of the day a bit apart from reality, lost in thought, in melancholia.
I can't even quite explain it, except you loved me. You held my hand again and nothing could ever feel that safe, that right, that sound. I could feel our palms touching, the steady grip of fingers. You kissed me and tucked me inside of your arms and relief flooded my body. You were still with her, but she wasn't there and hardly mattered, we mattered, we knew it, and nobody said anything. And I loved you. Everything was so real and you smiled at me a lot. You have a very beautiful smile.
It was, in Summer Haus vocabulary, "a dream." But...that's just it. It was a fucking dream.
Can I tell you a secret? I could crawl inside my head and live in that dream. It was exactly what I (sometimes) want. Except in reality, it seems highly probable that I will never, ever get that, which, to be honest, confuses me.
When I sleep, you always wear the same thing. The clothes you wore the night I made you sit on the couch and kiss me.
I'll get over it./I could slit my wrists.
I supposed I should start by saying I thought about you last night, for the first time in days. Not that I hadn't thought about you at all, I actually do quite frequently, whenever I see your name, or things that remind me of you. But it's a fleeting race through my brain, accompanied by a snort, or a slight tightening of the facial muscles, .....or nothing at all. Nothing I allow myself to really feel.
But as I snuggled into the blankets and rubbed my head against the pillow, on the floor of my old bedroom, you settled like a fog in my brain, and the door in my heart swung open. The door behind which hides wishes, old memories, and a yawning, deep blackness, echoing of you, all of it.
So obviously this is what spawned the dream, though it took me quite a while to place all of this upon waking. In fact, I didn't remember it at all at first, until some minutes passed and it dawned on me, and I spent the rest of the day a bit apart from reality, lost in thought, in melancholia.
I can't even quite explain it, except you loved me. You held my hand again and nothing could ever feel that safe, that right, that sound. I could feel our palms touching, the steady grip of fingers. You kissed me and tucked me inside of your arms and relief flooded my body. You were still with her, but she wasn't there and hardly mattered, we mattered, we knew it, and nobody said anything. And I loved you. Everything was so real and you smiled at me a lot. You have a very beautiful smile.
It was, in Summer Haus vocabulary, "a dream." But...that's just it. It was a fucking dream.
Can I tell you a secret? I could crawl inside my head and live in that dream. It was exactly what I (sometimes) want. Except in reality, it seems highly probable that I will never, ever get that, which, to be honest, confuses me.
When I sleep, you always wear the same thing. The clothes you wore the night I made you sit on the couch and kiss me.
I'll get over it./I could slit my wrists.
posted by Angela at 9:53 PM
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