I keep dreaming that I'm in a play and I didn't know that I was so I don't know my lines but they're starting and I'm wearing a blue dress [it's always a blue dress, like Wendy or something] with heavy make up on my face and there's my cue and I guess I'll just make this up as I go. I dream that I'm playing a concert but I don't have a song to sing, or the band doesn't show up or I'm late or I forget how to play guitar [do I really even play guitar], and last night I was playing with a band via podcast and an in ear monitor, I've never used an in ear monitor, and there are five guitars to play and none of them have my name on it and something about my equipment in a closet under a staircase. I dream about walks and I can't find where I'm going, I don't know where I'm going. I dream about trying to get people to turn around [it's quiet in here, why can't they hear me]. I dream about holding hands a lot, about waiting in line and holding hands, about waiting to surprise the birthday boy and holding your hand in a strange living room with dark wooden arches at the doorways, about holding your hand at a basketball game. I dream about my ring that I had and lost, and a man finding it and bringing it back to me. I dream about my wedding and marrying all of these wrong guys in suits and shirts and ties and sisters in matching pink dresses giggling beside me. I dream about loving you and never knowing it, about loving you and never telling, loving you and forgetting and remembering when it's too late. I dream about watching you with a girl with a quiet laugh and trying to tell you that she's not the one you've been looking for. I dream about getting ready, doing my hair, changing my clothes, looking through a strange, unfamiliar closet, and wondering if it's real but it can't be real, my hair never looks this good and I can't recall how you and I could have gotten to this place, but I prayed anyways, don't wake up. I dream about train stations and everything is coming and going and people are kissing and hugging and [i have a flashback to four silly young girls hurling bags and backpacks and chocolate bars onto trains only a year ago, I recognize that girl... I remember her... I have been here before] but you were there, running to meet me, and the crowds pull you away. I wake up and I start the kettle for my coffee and I start another day, rolling my shoulders and rolling it off my back, whispering to myself, "it was just a dream. Surely, it was just a dream."

Posted on March 18, 2010 and filed under writing-.