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v u l v a l i c i o u s

someone else's dream, all the things I want, and many I do not
2003-05-07 // 12:46 a.m.

Standing in the kitchen, she tells me that she�s been having strange dreams. Dreams that she remembers, that strike her as funny the next day. The only one she relates leaves me convinced that I have pushed my Self into her psyche quite secretly, that I am camped out there, and she is unaware.

In her dream, she tells me, a man she has worked with and sees around tells her he�s in love with her. She reminds me of the strange bites she found on her neck and shoulders, and tells me that in her dream, they were up and down her arms. When the man saw them, she says, he told her they were sexy.

I laugh, tell her it�s a funny dream, a weird dream, a creepy yet comical dream. I tell her everything except the one thing I am thinking, which is: I am in love with you, and I couldn�t sleep last night for thinking about it. I blamed it on the caffeine, but even now I�m not as tired as I should be. I was awake, all my energy pushing out your name and my feelings for you. The energy collided with your dream world and put in new characters, but with the same story I was thinking.

I talked with a friend last night, and told her why I can�t tell her how I feel right now. We talked about age difference, the insanely wide gap in our years. I told her that I worry that talking will ruin everything, and that in five years I�ll be sitting in a coffee shop reading a book, and someone who looks like her will walk in, and I�ll feel even worse than if I had never said a word to her, knowing that the doppelganger was the closest I could get to the real thing. I told my friend that, regardless of my feelings, I have no idea what I want from my her, this strange person that I can imagine feeling this way toward forever.

I do not want the complications of a relationship, of entangled lives that are spent together. I cannot handle simple, uncomplicated sex; not with her, not with the way I feel about her shoving its way into the forward parts of my brain with a kind of enduring insistence even now, when I rarely even touch her. I do not want to stay where I am, pining for her.

I want something between all those things. I want to touch her, be with her, leave. Have her do the same. I want our lives to fall into each other like two separate pieces of yarn, twining and untwining with one another so that they could be easily taken apart or just as easily left together. I want to kiss her. I want to not have to kiss her. I want friendship that falls lightly into something more, and then comes through the other side. I want un-neat waves of emotion, up and down, to be the state of perfection I am looking to achieve with her.

I want to dream inside of her. I want to know what she feels like from every angle possible.


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