Closed dream, open letter.

14 02 2010

I dreamed of you last night. Surprising because we’ve not seen each other or even spoken in 10 years, and then only in passing.

The circumstances don’t seem to matter. Anyway, I can’t recall them much. But we were younger, like we were then, though our personalities were modern and up-to-date. I saw you with my eyes that I used to see you with, and you me. Though I knew all that has happened and not happened, the world was green and new. Summer was everywhere and forever. It could never end, and the shining plans we all had would never happen, and it did not hurt us to think that.

We were together like we never were, like I’d always dreamed, and I lost myself for hours in your eyes. Your voice still sparkled for me. Still? I had only just come to know its melody. It rang clearly for me and only for me. And when I held you close — so close we breathed once for both of us — you held me back, and I knew the heavy buzzing of lying on the edge of a longed-for sleep from which I ached never to awaken.

We spoke endlessly and excited, your eyes laughing and your smile warm and most of what we said was unspoken and understood long before we thought of it. You loomed larger in my vision as you did then, a promise of my future and past at once, a pledge that I was right and so was the world, and you carried inside you the promises I’ve kept already, like my fate sealed and delivered to me before I lived it.

When I woke I was smiling, and I grasped at the last strands of fog in your shape without knowing what I reached for. It was some time before I knew who I was loving from so far away. It was some time swimming up to wakefulness before I knew it was you. It was you.

I remembered then all that was wrapped in that time, in that era that you defined for me without ever raising a finger or letting fall a word. The lush green of high summer and the wind in the trees, the electricity before a storm and the promise of a life about to be lived without safety devices or guides. The rich beauty and lustre of something that could not last but was made of forever. All that I was then, and all I hoped to be, I found in some way wrapped in the soft curls of your hair, of the dance in your eyes and the dangerous allure of your confidence. To hold you completely was my only wish for eternity, and in it I saw all I might need or desire. I longed to be lost in you so badly, I loved you so desperately, I wanted to love you so much more, the pain of not being close enough to you was, in itself, a precious treasure.

It has been so long since I thought of you, really. It has been far, far longer since I dreamed of you. And when I dreamed, it was of me. I dreamed of who I was and what I lost. Because you were never there. You never held me. You never smiled only for me. You never held my dreams as your own. It was me. I did. I held myself. And the dream was not of you or where you are, but of me, and where I am.

Last night I dreamed of you. I dreamed that I loved you. Because I did.