She again crept into my dreams. Her eyes that way, her voice that low..
And per usual, I woke up with tears puddling into the fibers of my pillow, burning mascara into my eyes, a thick coating of sweat heavy on my brow, and an audible scream for help, though I know, like the first time, no one is there.
It's almost 1:30 am, and I do not want to go back to sleep like this. I am alone in a dark room, in a strange place, and I am admittedly scared. I reach for the phone, knowing that the three people I'd normally call in this situation I cannot. Because I have a new phone, and thus a short list of contacts, his number is first in my address book. I press talk, expecting him not to answer.
But after two rings, I hear, "It's about time." "What?" "That you called.." "I told you I wasn't talking to you today." (Something that I previously decided in order to safeguard myself from plummeting for him.) "Right, I remember you saying that.. But I guess I stayed up late in case your mind changed." "Bull. You always stay up this late. Nice try, though." And we laugh.
He asked me why I decided to call; I told him I had a bad dream and just wanted to hear someone's voice. He asked had I been crying, and I, thankful that finally someone could hear dried tears in my voice, almost shouted yes. He asked what the dream was about, and here begins a problem I foolishly did not foresee. I had already decided in my mind that I would not unload unto him my private history, as that is sharing too much, and getting too close, and just clearing the cliff for plummeting. But as I pressed talk, I forgot that I would have to tell him what the dream was about. I'd lie.. Duh.
"Just your run of the mill boogie man." "Ok well, for the sake of you getting back to sleep, I guess I'll just believe this lie." "Not a lie.." "I know enough about you to know that a run of the mill boogie man dream would not frighten you into swallowing your pride and calling me after you swore and swore all morning that we couldn't talk." "...Technically, it's a new day." (Pride saver, y'know.) "Ok Constance-Marie. So, what was your dream about?" (Time for a new lie.) "Eh, it's complicated, and it's too late for me to try to explain. You wouldn't get it." "I hope you know that this is not the way to build a relationship. With all your lies, and whatnot." "I'M NOT LYING!" "Ok. But if you were, it's probably because your dream was about something that happened in reality, that you don't want to tell me about, because you don't want me knowing all your business. Which is cool, y'know, if you just say that. But you're not lying anyway, right, so it doesn't matter." Blink. Blank stare. "I... hate you."
And thus began the dismantling of my tears. I somehow found it in me to spill forth everything, every detail that made my body shudder, or my voice crack. He asked me when these dreams seemed to surface, and for the very first time, I was able to make the connection between them, and certain transitions in my life. I asked him what I should do to make them stop, and he decided the only sure remedy was to call him every night. I laughed, and he changed the subject to lighter things. We talked for some time, and I finally relaxed, and started dozing off to sleep. I remember hearing him say, "I'll call you in the morning."
I'll think about answering.
And per usual, I woke up with tears puddling into the fibers of my pillow, burning mascara into my eyes, a thick coating of sweat heavy on my brow, and an audible scream for help, though I know, like the first time, no one is there.
It's almost 1:30 am, and I do not want to go back to sleep like this. I am alone in a dark room, in a strange place, and I am admittedly scared. I reach for the phone, knowing that the three people I'd normally call in this situation I cannot. Because I have a new phone, and thus a short list of contacts, his number is first in my address book. I press talk, expecting him not to answer.
But after two rings, I hear, "It's about time." "What?" "That you called.." "I told you I wasn't talking to you today." (Something that I previously decided in order to safeguard myself from plummeting for him.) "Right, I remember you saying that.. But I guess I stayed up late in case your mind changed." "Bull. You always stay up this late. Nice try, though." And we laugh.
He asked me why I decided to call; I told him I had a bad dream and just wanted to hear someone's voice. He asked had I been crying, and I, thankful that finally someone could hear dried tears in my voice, almost shouted yes. He asked what the dream was about, and here begins a problem I foolishly did not foresee. I had already decided in my mind that I would not unload unto him my private history, as that is sharing too much, and getting too close, and just clearing the cliff for plummeting. But as I pressed talk, I forgot that I would have to tell him what the dream was about. I'd lie.. Duh.
"Just your run of the mill boogie man." "Ok well, for the sake of you getting back to sleep, I guess I'll just believe this lie." "Not a lie.." "I know enough about you to know that a run of the mill boogie man dream would not frighten you into swallowing your pride and calling me after you swore and swore all morning that we couldn't talk." "...Technically, it's a new day." (Pride saver, y'know.) "Ok Constance-Marie. So, what was your dream about?" (Time for a new lie.) "Eh, it's complicated, and it's too late for me to try to explain. You wouldn't get it." "I hope you know that this is not the way to build a relationship. With all your lies, and whatnot." "I'M NOT LYING!" "Ok. But if you were, it's probably because your dream was about something that happened in reality, that you don't want to tell me about, because you don't want me knowing all your business. Which is cool, y'know, if you just say that. But you're not lying anyway, right, so it doesn't matter." Blink. Blank stare. "I... hate you."
And thus began the dismantling of my tears. I somehow found it in me to spill forth everything, every detail that made my body shudder, or my voice crack. He asked me when these dreams seemed to surface, and for the very first time, I was able to make the connection between them, and certain transitions in my life. I asked him what I should do to make them stop, and he decided the only sure remedy was to call him every night. I laughed, and he changed the subject to lighter things. We talked for some time, and I finally relaxed, and started dozing off to sleep. I remember hearing him say, "I'll call you in the morning."
I'll think about answering.
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