we danced until layers of skin and dream
So, here's the next dream I remember...
Jason and I seem to be talking on the phone, but there isn't a phone in my hand. What, are we telepaths? I'm in a bathroom- I don't know where- and I see myself in the mirror and I'm older. A lot older. 20 years older, maybe, than I am now. But as I notice this, I recall thinking I look damn good to be however old I am. And then it's back to talking to Jason. I'm asking him- no, begging him- to meet me and he's reluctant. I think to myself that I haven't seen him in so long that I don't remember what he looks like. I persist, and finally he gives in and the conversation is over.
I get on this tiny plane that is somehow in the parking lot of the mini-storage that Mama manages, and I take off. As I'm flying, the world underneath me looks as though it's been painted with easter egg dye in the worst possible color combinations. Bothered by this, I decide to land right away.
After I land, Jason is somehow right there waiting for me. Though I am older, he looks to have not aged a day, and is smoking something that looks like a rolled-up newspaper. I notice right then that we're both naked, and I worry that I might've been seen flying through the sky in a plane with no clothes on- I hoped to myself that I looked hot at least. Jason invites me into a door that is just sorta there...
...and we're in his old apartment in Fort Lauderdale. It's hotter than a barrel of fuck, but we're both used to this. We fuck, which is what we always seemed to be doing when I was there. Time passes. Later, we're in his tiny-ass shower, together, and I'm telling him over and over how beautiful he is. He turns to me and says "I need you to leave me alone. I told you already. I need time. I never promised you anything."
Suddenly I start bleeding. Bleeding like straight out of my pores. I'm not surprised at this, and rinse the blood off under the shower.
"I need to do this for me. This is good for me, Donny. I need to be away from you. I love you, but I can't be around you. I love you so much. You have to leave." He says these things with a marked lack of emotion, as though reading them from a script. I'm bleeding more and more, until a steady stream of red is swirling into the shower drain, and I still am not alarmed by this.
"But I need to be around you sometimes. I love you too." Jason turns off the water in the shower and starts taking the shower curtain down, and then gets out. "I can't talk to you right now. I need time to think. This is good for me." I'm still standing in the little circle of pink tiles, soaking wet, and bleeding from what seems like every pore on my body. I get dizzy and weak.
He keeps repeating himself for what seems to be a few days, as I crumble into a bleeding fetal position, still in the shower tiles.
"I am dying," I said. I notice that he is now dressed, and looks like he's about to leave.
"I won't make any promises. I have to go."
I laid there, bleeding but never quite to death, watching him walk further and further away.
Jason and I seem to be talking on the phone, but there isn't a phone in my hand. What, are we telepaths? I'm in a bathroom- I don't know where- and I see myself in the mirror and I'm older. A lot older. 20 years older, maybe, than I am now. But as I notice this, I recall thinking I look damn good to be however old I am. And then it's back to talking to Jason. I'm asking him- no, begging him- to meet me and he's reluctant. I think to myself that I haven't seen him in so long that I don't remember what he looks like. I persist, and finally he gives in and the conversation is over.
I get on this tiny plane that is somehow in the parking lot of the mini-storage that Mama manages, and I take off. As I'm flying, the world underneath me looks as though it's been painted with easter egg dye in the worst possible color combinations. Bothered by this, I decide to land right away.
After I land, Jason is somehow right there waiting for me. Though I am older, he looks to have not aged a day, and is smoking something that looks like a rolled-up newspaper. I notice right then that we're both naked, and I worry that I might've been seen flying through the sky in a plane with no clothes on- I hoped to myself that I looked hot at least. Jason invites me into a door that is just sorta there...
...and we're in his old apartment in Fort Lauderdale. It's hotter than a barrel of fuck, but we're both used to this. We fuck, which is what we always seemed to be doing when I was there. Time passes. Later, we're in his tiny-ass shower, together, and I'm telling him over and over how beautiful he is. He turns to me and says "I need you to leave me alone. I told you already. I need time. I never promised you anything."
Suddenly I start bleeding. Bleeding like straight out of my pores. I'm not surprised at this, and rinse the blood off under the shower.
"I need to do this for me. This is good for me, Donny. I need to be away from you. I love you, but I can't be around you. I love you so much. You have to leave." He says these things with a marked lack of emotion, as though reading them from a script. I'm bleeding more and more, until a steady stream of red is swirling into the shower drain, and I still am not alarmed by this.
"But I need to be around you sometimes. I love you too." Jason turns off the water in the shower and starts taking the shower curtain down, and then gets out. "I can't talk to you right now. I need time to think. This is good for me." I'm still standing in the little circle of pink tiles, soaking wet, and bleeding from what seems like every pore on my body. I get dizzy and weak.
He keeps repeating himself for what seems to be a few days, as I crumble into a bleeding fetal position, still in the shower tiles.
"I am dying," I said. I notice that he is now dressed, and looks like he's about to leave.
"I won't make any promises. I have to go."
I laid there, bleeding but never quite to death, watching him walk further and further away.