Life Dreams, Wet Dreams
Sometimes, you just need to release the valve, in whatever way works best. I feel better, less erratic. But I know it's not the only reason I was feeling scattered. I’m consuming a lot of information, trying to make sense of the world we're in, and at the same time, I'm sorting through my emotions anticipating the current to come. It's another reason, but not the only one, for pouring media onto my mind.
It’s hard to predict the end of something so far in advance. But I'm grateful for the chance to grieve, and even more grateful for my awareness of what I’m grieving. It’s not easy to say goodbye. When you do, memories of gratitude rush to the surface, and the longing begins—sometimes more painful than the grieving itself. Maybe they’re both steps within a greater process called death.
I'm scared. There’s no other way to put it. One Chanel, the other Gap. One is wet dreams, the other ignites life dreams. I’m drawn to Ms. Gap—madam life dreams. That’s always been my dream: a partner, two kids, a life we build together. But my soul had other plans: healing homework for both the soul and the whole. I was a strange mix of "too nice" and rage, birthed from chaos and conditions both now and passed down from those before me.
I learned from the screen. It was in the room where I shined. If only I could make her emulate the sounds and expressions I absorbed with my ears and eyes. I’m a man of contingencies, always with a backup plan—or maybe a forward plan, depending on the moment. The skills of the tongue. I did well. Sometimes not so well—it depended on the sun and moon, the alignment of the planets out there and in here. I achieved a passing grade, a high C, and maybe even a B+ at times. I guess it depends on the student who came before me.
A grading system that only she controls: the teacher. Once upon a time, she was the wise one in our historical eyes. Today, she is underground, difficult to be found but if you listen, you can still hear her subtle sounds.
Where was I? Ah yes, wet dreams and life dreams. It's not that life dreams can't have the thrill of wet dreams, but if I had to choose, I’d choose the illusory "happily ever after."
I said nothing. The fear of the past tightens inside my heart, holding back the words that yearn to rise up the channel and dew-drop off my tongue.
Feeling scared. Scared of what? Rejection? Possibility? That what you want might actually come true? One dream at a time. Wait why not two dreams at a time?
Rewind.
What stopped you? She was literally in front of you.
Judgment. Judgment of who she was surrounded by, judgment of her likes. Judgments that make no sense, judgments meant to distract and deter you from the truth of that moment. All you wanted was to say hello, to start a conversation. She felt good. She felt calm inside my heart. Maybe she had a man, maybe not. Maybe she was a million things or a million different scenarios, but it didn’t matter because she felt like a potential life dream.