pica_pica

I am a bit of a weirdo sometimes. As all growed up as I am, I still absolutely have these infantile beliefs in a hidden world of Clive Barkeresque shadows and dimensions that our poor little adult brains should have long since given up on trying to see or at least have given up on believing in. Santa Clause and his astral reindeers.

I shuffled off to bed later than I wanted to be last night, filled up a fresh bottle of tap water to place on the nightstand, put in my ear plugs and picked up the latest book Ive been reading:
Sexual Animosity between Men and Women.
I think I must have read the same small paragraph about 3 times before finally giving up on the idea of reading. That damned split brain thing was happening again where my eyes were mechanically scanning across the black characters printed on the sheets, but the inside part was thinking about her and what is bothering me. I kept stopping, picking up the cars and putting them back on the track, and starting from the beginning of the paragraph again, determined to listen to my eyes this time. Without fail when I got to the last sentence of that paragraph, I had no idea what the topic was again.
I put the book back underneath the pillow beside me and reached over to turn off the light. There on my messy nightstand was that stack of cards I had found in some long ago attempt at cleaning up the bedroom. I forgot they were even there, it must have been two months ago that I put them there. I picked up the first couple off the stack and opened the first one, a black and white photo of a cat hugging a dog. It was a valentines day card from 2003. She will always love me no matter what. I slid it off and looked at the cover of the next one. A woman reclining alone with a rose beside her. A birthday card from last year, more unrelenting love.




I put them back and turned off the light.

Thats the moment I go into weirdo mode. As I lay there waiting for sleep, my brain racing, I kinda throw a request out there. I ask for some clarity or some help. I suppose its almost some new non-religious form of a prayer, and I fall asleep open to the answer.

Later, I was in the lineup at Sin City. I was with some of the people I have met off this site, Leah was with me. The line up went a ways ahead of us, then zigged into the building, zagging back along the other side of the wall we waited against. Slowly we conveyored forward, eventually finding ourselves beside the window. There, in line on the other side of the window, was R. a foot away from me on the other side of the pane of glass.
At first it was shock, fear, and then her face changed into the deathglare.
whos this then? she asked through the glass. Pointing down beside me. I thought at first that she was referring to Leah, but then for some reason I also had Morgan with me. The wall and the window were gone, and Morgan was straining at the leash to get up to her. She smiled and bent down to give him his pets and I was angry. dont even THINK that you can just be all friendly with him now, not after all that! and I tried to get between them, tried to get her away from him. I wrapped my arm around Morgans neck, trying to pull him back from her. Then my friends stopped me and they were right.

We were then inside the club. I dont know what happened to my entourage, but I found myself near the bar and R was sitting at the bar with her blonde woman friend. No idea who that was. The bartenders name was Rick, and he knew her. He apparently knew who I was too and did not like me. Her friends saw me and wanted her to go with them someplace else, away from me in the bar. She did and I was alone. That Rick guy glared at me.

-- so far, just a dream. Just some non-eventful series of events that was most likely just my brain having a moment of fantasy creation. --

But then later, I was in a different section of the bar. Looked more like a large room in a really nice house. A large stone mantle, a fire burning, and R alone on the couch. Her friends werent there, I dont know where my friends were, and somehow, without their intervention, we were able to talk. (I wish I could have gotten out of bed at that first moment of waking to write about the conversation, it was important. But I allowed myself to believe I would not forget, and slept further.)

The only really powerful thing that I remember upon waking when my alarm finally went off was how the conversation broke through the silence and I ended up holding her as she sobbed in a way I have only witnessed her cry a couple of times throughout the entire 12 years. If anything could ever rip me to my core it was when she cried like this. Deep hyperventilating sobs, almost silent at times, and at others deafening sorrow. Her head was down, forehead against my chest and her arms fluctuated between holding me tight, to hammering on my chest with her fists, as if she could beat what has happened away from me and our past.

Whatever was behind her emotional reaction at that moment was so powerful, based so deeply inside of who she is, that it had transcended identification as a particular type of emotion. It was simply the pure core. It was what feeds love, rage, lust. It was simply the center and defied being named.

What a strange way to feel upon waking. Yeah, weirdo, it was one of those dreams. It had that aura. The lineup at Sin City was just a dream, but the conversation by the fire was more than that and I wake this morning with an actual feeling of some resolution, a little bit of closure. I wake today with a little bit of peace around that. Its as though I actually did get to finally get through to communicate, and I got a clearer picture. I also wake honestly thinking that she may also may have woken to the fading whisps of a strange dream. I really do believe that on rare occasions, there is something else out there that we tap into and still have enough of a link to our consciousness to remember a little bit of that travel.

Even if not, I have new thoughts and questions this morning.
what if?

What if the opportunity arose to really communicate?
The question that brought up was would I be able to forgive her of these last 5 months? Would I even WANT to talk to her now? Know who she is?

Yesterday or last week I would have said no fucking way. Not a chance. She all but destroyed me in October, November, and that was certainly not by accident. She was incredibly heartless and cruel, vindictive, and dare I say psychopathic by the true definition of the word.

Today though, I am waking with some clarity and a gift of understanding that changes that answer.