an odd dream about one relinquished some months ago…
we met by the pool. crystalline waves lapped softly, the unseen initiator, invisible, hiding in the depths.
he looks happy, but slightly tired. his hair is mussed, as if he were either just asleep or only just woke. we sit close, but not touching.
i am surprised to find him here. he seems equally surprised. there is an awkward silence, i am unwilling to speak first… since i only seem able to say the wrong things.
he will not look me in the eye. finally, i say quietly, ‘i hope you have been well.’ i make it a statement, rather than a question. he nods, but says nothing. i tell him briefly of recent developments and as i am doing so, my perspective splits and i am both there, in the moment, speaking to him, and ‘above’ somehow… watching from distance.
i see his hands are twisting on his lap. he is anxious or nervous or perhaps only wishing he weren’t there. i cannot tell which.
i ask how the cat is… and feel an odd combination of anger and wistfulness for knowing all the things i cannot say for his lack of interest or care to hear them. the ‘me outside me’ is thinking about all those things, and feeding me, Cyrano-like, as if those questions or thoughts are permitted or somehow necessary to speak.
i know better, and remain silent, choosing instead simply to enjoy the feeling of his presence.
he finally says, ‘i read everything you write.’ i am uncertain what to say, but he doesn’t seem to be looking for a reply. so i wait. ‘i didn’t know you thought so poorly of me.’ he sighs.
i tell him, ‘you have never understood. it isn’t that i think poorly of you. but you never accept the good things i tell you i see, so there’s no balance in it for you. you seem to oddly savor hearing the bad, thinking i look down on you, but i never have. you just read it that way, hear it that way.’
he turns his head from me, but i want him to hear this, so i lean in and continue, ‘saying what i see doesn’t mean i want to see it, or that i like it, or that i take enjoyment in it. i would tell you all the ways i wish you showed me other things… but you don’t want to hear it. you will not hear it.’
i frown, ‘you don’t want to hear anything except praise, but even that is hopeless, you just doubt it or call it ‘coddling’. so what point to say anything?’
he finally turns his eyes to me. he is crying, ‘i didn’t want you to know me like this. i wanted you to know me better…’ he stumbles over the words, hiccups, then continues, ‘i wanted you to see better in me than this.’
i nod, ‘but i can only see what you show me. i tried to see better, but you refused to show it to me for more than moments.’
the silence falls over us like rain. the throb of things unsaid and all the unspoken things, they make ripples of color that bleed from us and run in rivulets over the grass. i watch their rainbows until the colors merge and become clear.
‘i miss you…’ he whispers raggedly. my turn to sigh, ‘i wish i knew that, all i know is your silence.’ he whispers again, ‘i am telling you now…’
‘yes…’ i reply, ‘but this is only a dream.’ he looks at me finally… ‘you used to believe dreams were real.’ i nod, ‘yes, i did, until i met you.’
‘i wish it could be different.’
‘me, too.’
i do not remember which of us said these, perhaps we both did. i turn away for a moment, and when i look again, he is gone and only an outline of where he was remains… a ghost of memory, already fading.
the rain is real now, its soft droplets make patterns on my clothing. i watch them until they are solid… and i am drenched. i stand and walk away from the pool, into the meadow, unsure where i am going, but feeling i should get started.