Sometimes I imagine that I’m not here at all. That maybe I’ve drifted off and this is all just a dream, or a nightmare. Sometimes I forget the difference in memories I make when I’m awake and while I’m asleep. They tend to blur together. I tend to let them.
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Sometimes I imagine we’re at a party and it’s sometime past midnight. Music is pounding throughout the hall and people are crowing and dancing, and it’s a little sweatier than anyone would prefer. I’ve retired to a nearby chair, my shoes in one hand and a drink in the other. I lean back into the seat and let time slow for a second, observing the energy that surges around me. Tired but pleased with the night, I let myself rest in the silence of my own mind within the roaring crowd, my eyes closing as I let the go of the tension I hold. It feels surreal to be here, to be so alive, so awake. I feel a tap on my shoulder and my eyes open to find you sitting beside me, a look of curiosity on your face. We don’t have to say anything to know that we both feel really weird and happy, so I just kind of giggle in response. This seems to please you, so you hold out your hand to lead me. Complying, my hand finds yours and I lift myself up. Swirling through the crowd trying to keep hold of each other, we find the door, and the night sky beyond it. Neither one wearing shoes, we plant ourselves in the damp grass, hair mingling with the field as we look up. It’s cold and not quite comfortable but it doesn’t matter because we’re smiling and the sky is beautiful and I’m so glad you invited me. The silence turns into a cursed game of “connect the dots”, chaining together stars, followed by fits of laughter. I know that by this point, we both look a mess, but honestly, I don’t think either one of us cares if our dresses are creased or if our hair is mess. I look to you and see you smiling, and I’m happy you’re happy. I’m… happy.
But we don’t go out to parties. We don’t go out at all.
Sometimes I imagine us isolated in a little cabin up in the mountains while the worst snowstorm of the season blows, and I’m grabbing a couple more blankets from the closet so that we can sit together on the couch. The power went out so we have a couple of lamps glowing, and all the candles we dug out of storage are sprinkled throughout the room. The moon looms through the blizzard, it’s soft light seeps between the gaps in the curtains. The wind is roaring outside, so we have music playing off of my phone in the corner to try and muffle it. You’re walking back over to couch with a box of cookies that you said were a gift for one of our friends who was supposed to visit, rationalizing that they would only go waste if we didn’t eat them right now. My toes are freezing once again, so I tuck them under the covers and lean my back against your side, slipping under your arm as you sit down and adjusting so that my head is in your lap and I’m looking up at you. Smiling out of embarrassment. Because there is nothing else to do than to enjoy each other’s company.
But I can’t see your face. I can’t see you at all.
Sometimes I imagine that I’ve just woken up early in the morning. But instead of reaching for my phone to check the alarm, I’m looking at a text message from you. You’re asking me if I’m awake. Well, I am now. Your reply is instant, a in-text laugh and a “good”. I ask you why you’re waking me up so early, and then put my phone down to walk to the bathroom so that I can fix my hair. I’m halfway through my second attempt at a ponytail, when the beeping of my phone takes on a steady pattern of quick pings, and I bolt back to my room. It was too early for me to be making this much noise, and everyone one else was still sleeping. I click off the ringer and look at the 13 messages you have sent me. You are sending each letter of my name individually and are just beginning your third iteration of the cycle. “Jeez what do you want from me?” A pause in the flow of your texts, and then a single response. “nothing :)”. I swear to you that I’m going to lose it, but the subconscious smile inching across my face seems to contradict that. I add a couple of facepalms to our conversation and put the phone down. I wasn’t planning on waking up for the stuff I had to do today, but here I am, getting ready 15 minutes before when I usually would. So stupid. Another notification pops up, and although I know I should keep getting ready, the curiosity wins, and I reach to check. You say you woke me up because you wanted me to be there today. In a strange way, I also want to be there now.
But… we don’t really talk like that anymore, do we?
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If we could, we would, wouldn’t we? But we’re all so caught up in our lives, and tangled in our own words. Stuck in this loop and we can’t thread these thoughts together anymore.
So instead, I dream so that I don’t accidentally let us go.
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