a field of wildflowers
Lately I've been crying at night. Before I go to bed I imagine my life with Chris and what I always thought we were building together. I cry at the loss of the project. I cry at the waste of time. And I cry at my fear. Fear that he is going to wake up one day and realize that he didn't choose this life any more than I did...
The last dream I remember vividly was from a few nights ago. I feel like I can't remember another dream until I write this down. Somehow Chris and I were brought back together, only for a little while. We were supposed to go out to lunch together, and he was going to reserve our table while I went to the bathroom. I ran into Katrina, my older sister, in the bathroom, and she asked me to go out to her car with her for a minute to check something out. She said Chris would wait, and I knew that he would, so I went with her, thinking the trip would take a few minutes.
When we got out to the parking lot, I saw a sea of cars and became anxious thinking that I wasn't going to get back to Chris soon enough. There were so many distractions in the midst of it, I can't remember what order everything happened in. I ran into an old friend and had a quick conversation, but Chris was on my mind the whole time. We stopped by Katrina's friend's car. He was selling panchos and other things out of the bed of his truck. I can't even remember if we ended up ever getting to her car. I just remember feeling pressed for time, and my bladder did that thing it does when I'm nervous about being late. It feels like it's trying to push all the pee out. It feels like I'm on the verge of orgasm, almost, but more uncomfortable because I'm stressed.
I started walking back into the building where Chris and I were supposed to eat lunch, feeling like it was hours later, and I couldn't seem to find my way back into the building. What had been a restaurant before, had turned into a huge shopping pavillion. I walked past a lot of stores that were closed. I walked past another store that was selling white masks that scared me. I finally felt like I was going the right way and got to an escalator. I instinctively stepped onto the escalator. The child in front of me dropped something. When I was picking it up, I missed the spot where I was supposed to get off.
I rode down to the bottom, and when I got there, I realized that none of the escalators went back to the floor I was supposed to be on. I tried furiously to find a way to get back to where I was supposed to be. Finally, I found an elevator I was sure would help me. When I got on the numbers were not as I expected: 1, 2, 3, 4...they were all three digit numbers...so I pressed the lowest one, thinking it would be the next floor...but the elevator started going so fast, I couldn't catch up with myself. I started to cry on the elevator, because all I wanted was to be back where Chris was.
I can't write this without crying. Every few minutes I stop to clench my fists because I'm furious with myself for being this upset over it still. And because I feel it so strongly it just physically hurts. I want to cry out. I want someone to hold me and tell me that they know how much it hurts...but i don't know anyone who could possibly admit that they know how much this hurts still.
There is so much value in the strength that people can falsely exhude, it's impossible to convey this feeling to another. It is weakness. It is failure. It is nothing.
I cried on the elevator because I knew I wasn't headed back to where he was. I had no thought or care of where I was going. It was irrelevant to my frame of mind. The point was not that I was still headed somewhere. The point was that I was not with him. And the more time that passed...the farther I got from him, the more it hurt. In my dream, the pain I'm describing did not resemble the pain I feel now writing about it...this is an ache. A longing for something that can never be again. The pain I feel in my dreams is physical and overwhelming. I hear skin tearing. I feel my bones being ripped out of my skin without hesitance. In my dreams, I am being dismembered and no one notices. My body does not maintain the form it begins in.
The elevator had ascended what seemed to be 400 floors by the time I got off. I exited into a hotel room that belonged to a man I knew. Lovingly, he told me to stay. I looked around the room and saw a suitcase that belonged to me. My things were in the suitcase in his room, and I felt disgusted with myself because I did not recognize the man's face.
I ran.
There was a door in the hallway that led to a stairwell. I remember the strength the hope that Chris was still waiting for me gave me. And I knew that it was a ridiculous though. It had been so many hours since I'd seen him last. It might have even been days. I couldn't tell.
I can't recall how many flights of stairs I'd descended before I got to the stairway entrance to a ballroom. A man in a tuxedo greeted me- he said they'd been waiting for me, and got a back up in case I didn't show. I relaxed when he spoke, though I still wasn't sure what I was doing there. Chris was still on my mind. But I knew I couldn't go any farther. If I went down the stairwell, what waited for me was a warped Catholic version of my childhood.
I should have just gone outside. When I looked out the window, I remember a field of wildflowers. Now that seems like a safe place in the sunshine. Why didn't I consider that an option?
The last dream I remember vividly was from a few nights ago. I feel like I can't remember another dream until I write this down. Somehow Chris and I were brought back together, only for a little while. We were supposed to go out to lunch together, and he was going to reserve our table while I went to the bathroom. I ran into Katrina, my older sister, in the bathroom, and she asked me to go out to her car with her for a minute to check something out. She said Chris would wait, and I knew that he would, so I went with her, thinking the trip would take a few minutes.
When we got out to the parking lot, I saw a sea of cars and became anxious thinking that I wasn't going to get back to Chris soon enough. There were so many distractions in the midst of it, I can't remember what order everything happened in. I ran into an old friend and had a quick conversation, but Chris was on my mind the whole time. We stopped by Katrina's friend's car. He was selling panchos and other things out of the bed of his truck. I can't even remember if we ended up ever getting to her car. I just remember feeling pressed for time, and my bladder did that thing it does when I'm nervous about being late. It feels like it's trying to push all the pee out. It feels like I'm on the verge of orgasm, almost, but more uncomfortable because I'm stressed.
I started walking back into the building where Chris and I were supposed to eat lunch, feeling like it was hours later, and I couldn't seem to find my way back into the building. What had been a restaurant before, had turned into a huge shopping pavillion. I walked past a lot of stores that were closed. I walked past another store that was selling white masks that scared me. I finally felt like I was going the right way and got to an escalator. I instinctively stepped onto the escalator. The child in front of me dropped something. When I was picking it up, I missed the spot where I was supposed to get off.
I rode down to the bottom, and when I got there, I realized that none of the escalators went back to the floor I was supposed to be on. I tried furiously to find a way to get back to where I was supposed to be. Finally, I found an elevator I was sure would help me. When I got on the numbers were not as I expected: 1, 2, 3, 4...they were all three digit numbers...so I pressed the lowest one, thinking it would be the next floor...but the elevator started going so fast, I couldn't catch up with myself. I started to cry on the elevator, because all I wanted was to be back where Chris was.
I can't write this without crying. Every few minutes I stop to clench my fists because I'm furious with myself for being this upset over it still. And because I feel it so strongly it just physically hurts. I want to cry out. I want someone to hold me and tell me that they know how much it hurts...but i don't know anyone who could possibly admit that they know how much this hurts still.
There is so much value in the strength that people can falsely exhude, it's impossible to convey this feeling to another. It is weakness. It is failure. It is nothing.
I cried on the elevator because I knew I wasn't headed back to where he was. I had no thought or care of where I was going. It was irrelevant to my frame of mind. The point was not that I was still headed somewhere. The point was that I was not with him. And the more time that passed...the farther I got from him, the more it hurt. In my dream, the pain I'm describing did not resemble the pain I feel now writing about it...this is an ache. A longing for something that can never be again. The pain I feel in my dreams is physical and overwhelming. I hear skin tearing. I feel my bones being ripped out of my skin without hesitance. In my dreams, I am being dismembered and no one notices. My body does not maintain the form it begins in.
The elevator had ascended what seemed to be 400 floors by the time I got off. I exited into a hotel room that belonged to a man I knew. Lovingly, he told me to stay. I looked around the room and saw a suitcase that belonged to me. My things were in the suitcase in his room, and I felt disgusted with myself because I did not recognize the man's face.
I ran.
There was a door in the hallway that led to a stairwell. I remember the strength the hope that Chris was still waiting for me gave me. And I knew that it was a ridiculous though. It had been so many hours since I'd seen him last. It might have even been days. I couldn't tell.
I can't recall how many flights of stairs I'd descended before I got to the stairway entrance to a ballroom. A man in a tuxedo greeted me- he said they'd been waiting for me, and got a back up in case I didn't show. I relaxed when he spoke, though I still wasn't sure what I was doing there. Chris was still on my mind. But I knew I couldn't go any farther. If I went down the stairwell, what waited for me was a warped Catholic version of my childhood.
I should have just gone outside. When I looked out the window, I remember a field of wildflowers. Now that seems like a safe place in the sunshine. Why didn't I consider that an option?