a recurring dream

i’m standing on a pier, looking over water. i’m uncertain if it is a lake or the ocean. it has sandy beaches and surf, so i’m assuming it’s coastal. an unseen someone is standing to my left. just out of the field of view. somehow, i know that turning to see them will be futile and since i’m enjoying their company, i do not allow myself the indulgence in temptation.

we have talked, and while i cannot remember the conversation, i have the sense it was helpful. we are standing now, aftermatch, soaking up companionship in silence, watch the waves crest and hit the shoreline.

there are gulls, and sandpipers. i’m giggling at myself for being so absorbed in the details. i know it means there is something i’m not looking at and, in the moment i have that thought, i realize i’m awake in the dream. the usual sense of accomplishment flashes and disappears and i consider what i want to do, what i want to experience.

i say with a smile in my voice, ‘this is a lucid dream.’ the presence to my left and behind me says, ‘of course it is.’ i say, playfully, ‘i think i want to see who you are…’ the response is just as laconic, ‘you can try.’

thus begins the dervish like effort, and i figure out quickly that the presence is somehow bound to me, when i move, it moves, and thus there is no turning to see who it is. the soft chuckle of it over my left shoulder tells me without words that this is not the first time i have tried to manage it.

i swing back to the shoreline, stomping my foot in frustration, ‘i’m supposed to be in control of this.’

‘you are…’ the voice says from behind me.

‘then why can’t i see you?’ i huff irascibly. ‘good question,’ the voice replies agreeably, ‘why can’t you?’

the answers rise in my mind, but i’m not willing to speak them, so i remain silent. ‘indeed,’ the voice behind me quips, ‘no one can prove what you’re thinking if you don’t say it.’ i’m gritting my teeth now, all enjoyment in the experience has flown, ‘if you know so fucking much, why don’t you tell me what i’m thinking?’

‘don’t you remember?’ the voice chuckled, ‘i just did.’

i woke up somewhere between laughter and tears. the sense of both trying to happen at once choked me and brought me out of sleep. i sat there for a moment, looking out the sliding doors at the trees and wracked my brain trying to remember the conversation at the ‘start’ of the dream, but it still eludes me.

what is it i’m not allowing myself to hear?

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