You. Again.

I don't know who you are, but you showed up in my dream last night.  We were outside, helping someone move or helping them make something out of furniture.  You came up behind me and put your face next to mine.

I could feel your warm skin and stubble and leaned into your face.  I put my hand on the side of your face and held it there, taking in the feel of your face on mine.

I paused my conversation with a friend.  We didn't kiss or embrace, but this was everything.

In this moment, you were home.

And then we took apart a dresser and put it back together.

I've had dreams of you before.  You are faceless, but the feeling I get when we are together is the same.  

Bare

Part I here

..::..

I heard footsteps on the porch and opened my eyes.  I waited a few seconds, but you didn't knock.  Was it someone else?

I stood up, quietly.  Please don't be a murderer.

I looked through the peephole and saw you standing at the door.  You were debating whether or not to knock.

As you raised your hand, I said through the door, "Hey."

You put your hand down and looked back at me, even though you couldn't see me.  Two inches of door separated our faces.

"What are you doing in the dark," you asked.

"There's a surprise party starting soon and you're going to ruin the surprise."

"I'm the one you're surprising!" Your enthusiasm filled my heart and annoyed me at the same time.  I smiled despite myself.  Butterflies flittered in my belly, glad you were back.  Traitors, all of you. 

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I tried to.  I got to my car and realized I haven't said everything."

"It will only make this harder."  

You sighed and closed your eyes.  "I know," you whispered.

I was quiet.

"I never wanted to hurt you.  Can I come in?"

"No," I whispered back. 

I put my hand on the doorknob.  I couldn't remember how many times you'd been in my house, how many times we made dinner, grilled in the backyard, had friends over, stayed up late talking.  

How many times you and I tangled ourselves in my bed and whispered to each other. 

But everything was different now.

I took my hand off the doorknob and stood up straight. 

I stepped back from the door. 

And then I opened it. 

"Hi."

You stood with your arms braced against the door jambs. 

"It was unlocked this whole time?"

"How often do I remember to lock the door?"

"Less than I'd like," you said protectively. 

"I'm getting better."

You looked at me and held your finger and thumb about an inch apart. "True. Ish."

"Can we go for a walk? I'm all back and forth and jittery now." 

"Yeah."  There were some quiet streets on the way to sandy dunes. We made a habit of going for a run down to the beach. 

"Lemme change." 

"They're in the back by the hose." That you knew what I would be looking for and where to find my running shoes was both comforting and painful now. I saw it register on your face, too. 

"I'll be back in a sec." You nodded back at me, stepping away. I left the front door open and went to my bedroom to change. 

I came back in yoga pants and a hoodie, barefoot with a pair of socks in my hands. All of a sudden I realized nights like this weren't going to happen again.

I needed cold water. That would fix everything. I turned to the kitchen and walked to the fridge and called out to you. "Do you want some water?" 

What the hell are you doing, girl. Offering him water? The man is in the process of breaking your heart. 

Yeah, but I don't need to be a dick about it. 

Don't you?!

You were inside the front door now, leaning against the living room couch, as unsure as I was. The front door was still open, as though we wouldn't make a scene in public. 

Crush

We got out of the car and you walked around to me.  You reached for my hand and wove your fingers in mine, like we had done a hundred times.  

We walked like this for a block, until we were in my front yard.  You stopped suddenly.  I tried pulling you with me.  But you had rooted your body to the ground and didn't move an inch. Like you had hit a wall.

Like something had just occurred to you.

It was a chilly spring night and the stars were out.  The night smelled like the Pacific.  

I turned to face you.  Why weren't you following me?  

"I can't."  Your face was pained.

"Just for a little while."

"No."  I looked at you, confused. 

We stood facing each other, our hands still clasped.

And then I realized why you had stopped.  I should have known this was coming.  It had to, eventually.

My face must have registered what was happening.  You pulled me to you and wrapped your arms around me.  I wrapped my arms around your back.  We stood like this for a little while.

You tilted your face down to mine.  I looked up at you and you leaned in to kiss me.  I turned my head back to your neck, unsure and sad.  I tried stepping back, moving both of us toward the house. But you stood firm.

My throat was tight and my chest heavy.  I was saying goodbye in my head. My eyes burned and I felt tears fall.  How did we get here?

You pulled back to look at me, your hand on the back of my head.

"Don't cry."

I smiled, "I hate you," I whispered.

You pulled me back into a hug.  We stood there, my forehead tucked in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

"I hate you, too," you whispered back.  And kissed my cheek.

The stars stared down at us, uncaring and unmoved by this scene.  This had happened thousands of times for thousands of years and would continue for thousands more.  These stars would remain long after we were stardust once again.  

I put my hands on your hips, my forehead on your shoulder.  You reached for my hand.

I looked up at you.  I stood on tiptoe and kissed you softly on your lips.  Once. As I closed my eyes, a single tear dropped on our faces between us. 

You held my hand as I walked away.  Our fingers held for a second, and then we were two.

I didn't look back, even though I wanted to.  I knew you were watching me. 

I wanted nothing more than to be with you.  

But. 

I walked up the steps, unlocked the door, and closed it behind me.  I sat down on the hardwood and leaned my back against the wall, my legs outstretched, and closed my eyes. 

Why didn't I see this coming?  I should have protected myself more.  I should have been the one to break it off.  As I thought about it, I realized that you must have tried to have this conversation.  

I thought about these last few months, your face lit by the moon, our whispers to each other in the night. Camping, drinking, birthdays, laughing, quiet moments alone.

I heard footsteps on the porch and opened my eyes.

You knocked lightly.  "Hey," you said through the door.  "Can I come in?" I could tell from your voice that you were leaning against the front door.

"No."

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"There's a surprise party soon and you're ruining the surprise."

"Well, let me in before they show up."

"It will only make this harder," I replied.

"I know," you whispered.  I heard you sit down on the other side of the door.

"Why didn't you leave?" I asked.

"I don't want to.  I never wanted to."

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.  

"Please let me in.  I never wanted to hurt you."

I was quiet.

I reached up and held the doorknob.  I turned it quickly and let go.  Maybe you would hit your head on the hardwood.

..::..

Part II here.

up and down and in between

3/5/08 1129 am
i want to create something.

i want to build something with my hands. i want to take an imageideathoughtfeeling in my brain and see it in the physical world. i want colors. i want shape. i want to feel it in my hands.

sometimes this feeling is overwhelming. most of the time it's fleeting, this urge. this need. sometimes the image in my head is a building. other times it's a painting or a book. i need to take this something that lives in my imagination and see it under the sun.

i woke up with a headache today. dreams of surf reports and incoming tides and grocery stores. i've been dreaming of grocery shopping a lot lately. did i tell you about the one where i went to the grocery store in my socks? i had to get eggs. the only eggs that were available were the big 36 egg packs. when i opened a box, all these little baby chicks flowed out of it. i tried catching them in my hands. they kept coming out of the box. little yellow blops of fur with tiny feet flowed out of the box. their fluff hanging in the air, their little feathers suspended as they rolled out of the box like a wave. and then i didn't want anything to do with scrambled eggs or omelets or any of that anymore.

what was i saying?

oh.

dreams of surf reports. i slept through my alarm clock. woke up to the surf report. got to work late. parking lot is atrocious. really. big F2355s taking up three parking spots. other cars not pulling in all the way, making me drive serpentine through this obstacle course.

oh yeah.

oh, so bad mood today. i'm tired of thinking of protein and fiber. i'm tired of drinking 8 glasses of water a day. i went to the gym on monday and tuesday. a few observations:

gyms STINK. they smell like sweat. old socks. sweaty towels. B.O. and crotch.
it's funny seeing all these people (myself included) runningwalkingsweating soooo fast--to nowhere. soooo fast. rows and rows of treadmills and ellipticals. men and women running up stairs that go nowhere.
we live in san diego. san diego, people. and we're crammed into a gym running ourselves silly watching tv.
yep.
hamsters in wheels. instead of calling it a hamster wheel, i decided to call it a ferris wheel. i ran the ferris wheel yesterday. sounds mo' bettah than a stinky gym next to stinky people (or is me stinky?) running stinkily toward the news and shows on tnt.

where was i going with this?

creation. i'm not talking babies or anything. a project. hmmm.... i have a few ideas for sketches. some ideas for painting. some framing ideas. some sewing ideas. quilts. my mom had a sewing room. she used to make sunday dresses for me and my sister. every sunday we had a new dress. lace. buttons. puffed sleeves. ribbons. flowers. beautiful dresses. her sewing room was yellow. piles and piles of fabric were all over the place. sometimes i would wake up to the sound of the machine. i fell asleep to it. we'd pick out colors. we'd go shopping for patterns. we would stand in that room and she would press patterns to our bodies, getting measurements. oh, the measurements! arm measurements, length, waist, stand still, hold this. i can feel her hands holding that thin, wrinkly brown paper to my back, smoothing it over my shoulders. i can hear her voice, muffled from holding pins between her lips. i can see all the sewing projects in different stages of completion. draped over chairs, over themselves, over the ironing board, hanging on the closet knobs. the carpet is full of pieces of trimmed fabric. little whisps. vivaldi plays in the background.

oh, mom.

nurse nell was just here. i hope she doesn't mind me posting about this. her family suffered a loss recently. i remember that feeling. those feelings. i remember wanting to be out of it. or at least to know when the grief would stop choking me in the middle of the night. when i would be able to breathe without feeling like i was drowning. i wanted to know when. six weeks? six months? when would i not miss him so sharply.

there's no time limit. i thought i saw him at a bus stop in claremont a few months ago. right across the street from where i was getting my car washed. the car wash i took his car to many years ago. i had forgotten to turn the radio off, so the antennae was left up. it went through the swish swishing brushes and soap. the antennae never went down without a fight after that. it was always a little crooked. i don't remember if i told him about it. ("dad, i'm the one that broke the antennae." i loved it when he drove. i always felt so safe. like a rockstar.) so i thought i saw him sitting at a bus stop. i sat on the bench across the street and watched him. i knew it wasn't him. i let myself pretend for a minute. wouldn't that be funny. my dad's afterlife and he's taking bus rides through claremont. he was wearing what he usually wore... a polo shirt, cargo shorts, a good pair of running shoes. sunglasses.

face to case.

crap. this wasn't going to be this kind of post.

there should be a book. "grieving for dummies". i suggested it to nurse nell. maybe we can start a book club on it.

what was i saying? oh... creation. yes.

****
post script: i googled "grieving for dummies"

dreams are funny stuff

i was at a restaurant. ben, mom, ginger, nancy, chela, wanda, millie, melva, leroy, shirley, anetta, greg, gena were being seated. i sat down with them. more chairs had to be added. but there weren't enough place settings for all of us. so i kept scooting over, moving my chair, and then my chair was taken away, and i was standing up next to the table. and then the table got smaller. i watched them flip and fold the table up and tuck chairs under the table so there would be no room for me.

and then i was the odd person out, standing by the table that was obviously big enough for all of us, but somehow shrank.

i wasn't hurt or even mad. i thought to myself "how fucking rude. there's obviously enough room for everyone. they have no manners." i put my hand on my hip and stared at them not looking at me. "fucking rude."

i was embarassed for them and their rudeness. grown adults, unable to be polite to someone they used to know. unable to be civil. unable to be decent human beings. rude. like ill-behaved toddlers hoarding all the crayons.

=====

the other night i woke up from a dream. my nose tickled. i was dreaming my dad was kissing my nose while i slept.

=====

phill says i have salvador dali dreams. the kinds of dreams with arms and legs showing up where there shouldn't be, and clocks dripping off cliffs or castles floating in skies.

i have dreams about clouds. i used to be afraid of clouds, i blame "the nothing" in the never ending story for that. i was scared of the big fluffy clouds. like, i would run inside if i saw one coming for me.

i've had dreams of flying, but the underlying feeling in those dreams was fear of falling. i like my parachuting dreams the most.

in my first parachuting dream i was parachuting through clouds. thick clouds that slowed down my parachuting team (i don't know who was with me, i just remember being with several people). one particular layer of clouds was so thick, we stopped and wobbled there like standing on a waterbed. we had to claw our way through the clouds, to rip through them. the cloud layer was like that layer of carpet padding. but in a beautiful way. we ripped through, and parachuted safely to the ground.

my last parachuting dream.... i was parachuting through hundreds of other parachuters. their parachutes were red and white. from my perch above them, they looked like red and white m&ms. they were all around me. above me, next to me, under me, it was a sea of parachuters. and they were all phill. and then the one phill caught up to me and we laughed at how there were all these parachuters (parachutists?) around us. the sun was setting. the ponds and lakes below were reflecting the sunset. we were falling from the sky, into the sky. i was surrounded by love, having this great time, floating through love.

how sweetly disgusting is that?

=====

anyone who's known me for at least five minutes lately, you know i'm reading eat love pray. i'm in bali with liz now. she's spending time with the medicine man, sharing her adventures with him, learning of his healing powers and meditation techniques.

seriously, i cannot tell you how much i love this book. the medicine man is simple and complex. he told her to "Worry about your craziness only--make you in peace."

this is what i told my sister, paula slovakia, when she was going through her divorce. "you can't understand crazy. to understand crazy, you have to go into a crazy place. you are not crazy, you are sane. you will never understand this level of crazy." i learned that so completely in the spring and summer of 2005. a lot was going on during that time. i was trying to wrap my head around such craziness; actions from people who were not supposed to ever say or do the things they said and did. i had to let it go. as much as it hurt to try and let her go (i still have a few issues to work out), holding onto it, examining it, taking pictures of it (metaphorically speaking) and showing it to people was doing more harm than good.

so i like what this medicine man said. and it took reading it in someone else's book, in someone else's words, under someone else's copywrite (eek) to remind myself that i have enough crazy (quirky?) of my own. and i'm letting voldemort go. for now. i'm letting all of that go. all of that bad energy, all of those words back and forth. i'm letting it go.

easier said than done. but it's on my list of things to do before i turn (gasp!) 31. oh. my. 31.

=====

another thing i'm holding onto from this book is the four brothers meditation. i have trouble sleeping. getting to sleep, and staying to sleep. i wake up 20 minutes after i fall asleep. i swear it's been hours and my alarm clock should go off any minute. nope. only 20 minutes. i miss phill, and i do not like being alone. yep. there, i said it. i don't like being alone. i'll leave the tv on, i'll stay up late, so i'll fall immediately to sleep with no tossing or turning. but basically, i miss my boyfriend and i don't like being alone.

so back to this thing i'm holding onto. without giving much of it away (you have to read this book), you pray to these four brothers everyone was born with. they're there to protect you. before you go to sleep (please please let me know if you're going to sue me for infringement or plagiarism or whatever), you call on them before you go to sleep, saying "I am sleeping now, so you must stay awake and protect me." the brothers will shield you through the night, stop demons and nightmares.

my heart did a funny thing when i read this. it held its tired sad head in its hands and felt relief. then i read it again. and i underlined it. and i marked the page. and i wrote it on the inside front cover. and i read it again.

so this talisman, i'm taking to bed with me. i am taking inner peace and my protectors.

goodnight to you all, and peace.

superman, you're a dick

i'm blessed (cursed?) with vivid dreams. sometimes every night, sometimes a few nights a week. at least once a week. last week i had this dream:

i was hanging out with superman. we were in his airplane hangar that he called home. it overlooked the huge mountain by my house. it was night time, we were hanging out in his patio area in front of the hangar. big boulders, asteroids started coming down and hitting the mountain, starting fires. i was like, supe! supe! ya gotta get out there! we gotta help them! he's standing there, drinking a cup of coffee all calm like and says "i loaned my cape out. i can't fly without my cape." loaned your cape out? what kinda super hero loans their cape out? we watch the boulder/astroids. one flies past my head.

so we went back inside the hangar. he's like "okay, try to fly. you can fly if you reeeally want to." i was like cool, yeah, i'll try it! i start running around the hangar with a hand on my hip and my fist in the air, taking flying leaps, but not succeeding. he's cheering me on, run faster! run faster! so i did. if i could..... just.... run..... faster. i gritted my teeth. i ran faster. i squeezed my fist harder in the air. i channeled more energy into my legs. i willllled them to propel me into the air.

i stopped, exhausted, and looked over at him.

he was doubled over giggling at me, at my attempts to fly. i looked at him.

"superman, you're a dick."

and then i woke up.

ritz crackers and a tanned old man

where's josh lucas? where was keanu reeves when was soo in love with him? not on this list. this list is reserved for people, nay, celebrities i've slept with.

1. george hamilton

this is not the first celebrity i slept with, but the first one i told someone about. george kept his black socks on and his tuxedo shirt, which really bothered me.

2. larry the cable guy

i don't know what to say in my defense. i think he's cute in a dumb, sweaty, funny, farty way. yes, he left his hat on. no, he wasn't wearing his sleeveless flannel.

3. warren beatty

i think he was my first celebrity. it sort of just happened. one minute i was chickening out of bungee jumping, the next minute we were inflagrante delicto.

4. jack nicholson

he was a horrible kisser. the only one of my celebrity trysts that i was truly offended by. i don't know how lara flynn stuck with him for so long. he was so inconsiderate. and drunk. and rude.