Facing That.
I woke and looked at satellite images of the world. Found that it had developed a Great Red Spot of its own, a la Jupiter, our own relentless anticyclonic storm, and that every piece of land seemed to be an empty plot. I went to my grandmother’s old house and in its place was a desecrated Mayan temple-turned-liquor store, and after climbing each terrace there I found you, reading a map. I looked it over. “Thank god the Brooklyn Bridge is still up.” You deemed it an eyesore. Later, I scaled the bridge’s cables and the whole thing fell to pieces. And I, falling too, opened my eyes underwater and watched its shadow dissolve into darkness.
Though my grandma’s house was gone, one of its rooms was still there somewhere, in the ruins. In real life, this room never existed, but I’ve seen it in other dreams. It’s dark and small, and scares me every time I see it. But there’s nothing in it besides a dirty old tub, that I can see. Still I knew not to go in this time.
Then, a gaudy candy store frequented only by middle-aged ravers. Searching for some one in a crowd and getting punched in the stomach. Watching movies outside on misplaced, bent high school bleachers. I’m confused.
I’m floating down the nicest river. Bobbing passively through a snowy, sunlit mountaintop overlooking the deepest valley. It occurs to me that I’m about to go over a waterfall, though the emergency of it is vague. I swim toward the shore. I finally pull myself up on to a frozen riverbank and skin my knees. The cuts are swarmed by a thousand big, black flies. Bleeding very slowly. I’ve got infections. I take off all my clothes thinking it will help, but it doesn’t. Ah, well.
I wonder why I care about this particular dream. Probably because I woke up several times as I dreamed it, but I found the same world every time I slipped back. And it was the first night I’d had in a while without taking anything to fall asleep. Sometimes this, sometimes that. A little pill with your initial on it. His initial, too. My newest kisser. But what did it really stand for? I don’t know. It worked well enough.
Really, when I knew you I don’t think I ever hailed you by your name. I think that’s because I’ve never thought of you as having one. I abstracted you to a fault, little one. I’ve never been so good at wrapping my head around infinity.
I’m not happy but… I think things are going to be all right. I came home this weekend to try to convince my parents not to send my younger brother to boarding school. After lying awake from 5 to 8 this morning, I overheard my parents talking and it seems they’ve decided against it, anyway. So I won’t have to meddle. Just party tonight, I guess. I was sort of cranky today but I had a good run, soo… I’ve been stimulated. And earlier, my family and I took the dogs for a walk at Montgomery Hill. Made me miss the nights that I’d actually forgotten until today — when, in a younger summer, we’d explore that park in its after-hours. My friends were always good. I was right on the brink of some hard times, then. But I’m still here.
Sharon came over and showed me her latest tattoos. She looked happier than I’ve ever seen her. I’m glad…
My youngest brother has been clinging to me all day, and I can’t help but get a little snappish. My mom says that he’s always on the verge of tears these days. He asked me this afternoon why I’ve looked so sad, and then nuzzled me — completely like a dog. I was uncomfortable. I guess all three of us kids are messed up — I’d always thought I was the black sheep (girl). But I’m not the one that’s failing 10th grade to become a rapper. But everyone has their trauma. It’s all relative. That’s why I like people. When people have been happy all their lives, I give them the side-eye.
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Owen was reading a girl’s dating profile aloud the other day.
“The things people first notice about me: My hair. My tattoos. But what people don’t see is how deeply I feel.”
We were both irked. I was more, probably, as I’m still thinking about it.
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