T-to-the-A

Midnite mysteries…

In Essays, Fiction, Prose on February 13, 2009 at 7:26 pm

It was dark, and a little… out of focus.  The colors were so bright I could practically smell them, feel them, press them into my skin, but the air felt fuzzy, and when I looked up he was smiling at me, just as I would have imagined… Only, I was imagining him, wasn’t I?

I mean, I haven’t seen the guy in years, and here he is showing up between me and the wood paneled wall of… where are we?  Yes, yes, this most definitely must be a dream.  And yet, he looks so real… and we’re talking in that annoyingly theatrical way I oft remember using in my dreams.  Why am I so dramatic?

There, that was him, wasn’t it?  I’m not dramatic, or at least, I dont think I am.  He was the one who used to throw around that accusation.  Dramatic.  Although he was the party of crazy.  I’m sure…

But he’s smiling.  Miles of happy teeth staring back at me, practically dancing in his mouth, like little white beacons of promise. 

What was I saying?  He’s waiting, imploring, question marks are practically tumbling out of his eyeballs and onto my shoes, shoes, shoes… there’s the echo again.  Either I’m dreaming or we’re having this totally surreal moment inside a tunnel.  

And then it hits me, we haven’t seen each other since the fight.  Talk about dramatic, we were each so intent on getting the last word that we battled via text message into the wee hours of the night, long after our voices threw in the towel.  Why, then, is he looking at me like that?  With so much love…

What am I getting from him now that… do I need this?  Absolvment?  Understanding?  A warm, masculine force to tell me I’ll be okay?  Why him?  Of all forces to invite behind my eyes?  Him?  

And then he’s hugging me, holding me.  He leans in to kiss and I tuck my head into his shoulder instead.  “Is this alright?  This is what I need.  Just a hug.”   And he gives it to me.  A safe-haven that carries me into… where are we?

I’m starting to feel heavy again, solid, and his arms are getting thinner.  It’s all going to fade away into nothing, isn’t it?  “Are you real?”  I try to ask but my lips are suddenly too heavy… and that floating, echoing thought-speech that we had going is rendered inopperable.  I know I’m going to wake up at any second. That the weight I’m feeling in front of my tongue is my all-too-human-lips, that the body is receiving signals, electricity to force it to move… that this cave will not hold, and I will wake up solid and wondering… wondering… of all the angels to hold me, why did I call on you?

And then I blink.

I blink and my cat has her butt pressed against my pillow.  And the thought-speech is replaced with her gigantic meow reminding me that it’s time for breakfast.  So I get my now-solid body out of bed to turn the corner of this day…  His presence now only a wisp tucked behind the fog, leaving me rubbing and rolling my eyes, leaving me wondering.

But before I can delve too deeply into the “Why’s” of it all, the “How did he get heres?”, with the sandy remains of the night still tingling in my thoughts, she meows again.  

I better feed this cat before she takes off my fingers.

And just like that he’s gone.

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