Monday, October 07, 2013

Haunted by Dreams of You

I dreamed of you last night.

I don’t even know who you are anymore, though. Are you Korea, the country that I spent so much time in that it feels more to home like me than the one I was borne in? In my dreams I walk the cold smooth streets of that country. The lights flash around me, languages and smells drifting up that are all foreign and strange. I am wrapped in them, and in them I am exactly where I want be. I walk those streets like I own myself, and maybe that is because here is a place where I feel totally as if I own myself, the good, the bad, the ugly.

There are strange words on my tongue in my dream. I dream of languages. I see the faces of friends, morphing into one another, so many friends, so many years. I am the passage of years. I have been inside it. The halls are gray and you are there.

I try to talk to you but every side of you is the wrong side of you. I am spinning around lost and trying desperately to find you.

The room is full of chairs and children, children I have known or taught, or the children that I was. I knew what we were doing was about to be ended and I was trying desperately to stop it. I was on the run from an idea, and I kept thinking if I just keep going back, if I keep going into the room I might affect change.

In the room though, is stagnation, over and over again the same: fascinating, interesting, but stagnate. The learning is non-learning, and no amount of pleading will change things. The actions are the same over and over again, stuck, and I want desperately not to be stuck in it. I keep moving back and forth between the room and an endless hall that seems to surround the room.

I look for you.

You are inside the room.

You are outside the room.

Finally there is an alarm, and I know the alarm means the end, it is over, there is no going back into that room.

I am distraught and open a door to a new place. I hear myself saying “I am haunted by my life without you.” I see this pushing you further away as I say it. I watch you disappear away.

And then there is a shift and I feel that well of uncontrollable emotion that I know will overwhelm me soon, that I know eventually I will be helpless to hold back.

There you sit in front of me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, no. I feel my shoulders tremble.

“Come here.” And you hold out your arms, and I fall into you, and I cry, sigh, letting go, expressing myself and feel free and safe, at peace, at home, and then you are not you and you are not there and instead I am me, awake, an alarm playing softly in the background with another day dawning.

I have dreamed of you so often, last night, the most real. Still, afterward, thinking back on the dream, I am not even sure who you are, just that you are out of reach, and that I am haunted by the dreams of you.

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