I love how fifteen minutes before I received your last e-mail I had this dream about us (God, the endless cosmos of dreams nested and shared over the years!!!): In the dream we were both attending classes. You were attending a business class and I was attending a creative writing class. The classes were in the same room only they were separated by a door frame and a window. Before our respective classes convened we met each other in the doorway and began to embrace. Your black hair was dripping down into your shoulders in sexy shroud like fashion and you were wearing a black hat just like this. My classroom was full of a lot of my real life writer friends and poets as well as a few of my residents who were older. Your classroom was full of these semi-hoity lloyds of london white collar business lads. We held each other (tight) for what seemed like usurped seconds of a slipped eternity. I told you that I wanted to be in your class because I wanted to learn how to make money. You told me that you wanted to be in my class because you wanted to write. I then got angry and conveyed to you that, "all the writers in my class are wannabe writers and alcoholics." I then (almost arrogantly) informed you that I thought I felt that I was better than most of the surrounding in class talent, including the teacher. My lips then parachuted and lovingly perched into the side of your neck and I began to embrace you more ardently. You said that you wanted me to hold you but were embarrassed because you were still in a classroom setting and didn't want all of your cohorts to see you. You then pushed me away and went to sit down in your room. I went to my side of the classroom with all the raucous writers and sat in the back of the room and began to look at my reflection in the window that separated the two classrooms. AS I began to lose myself in the translucent gaze of my reflection I realized that I wasn't looking at my own reflection but staring into yours (like one looking into a mirror)...you were seated all alone in your own classroom still wearing your funky black cap and had the saddest look stitched into your face I had ever seen. I felt like crying just looking at you. The teacher of my own creative writing class then entered the room. She was frazzled haired and looked agitated and had two litte (diggory and polly) four year old kids with her. The kids told their mom that they needed to use the bathroom only the mother admonished them and said that she could not leave the classroom. I then raised my hand and said that I could take them and that is how the dream ended, with myself, leading two young kids out of the classroom of hedonistic writers, helping them find the place they needed to go...
dreamt 5/21/10