So I had a strange dream about you last night. Normally I don’t remember my dreams, I stay awake until my body just gives up and then I fold up like yesterday’s newspaper, falling where I lay and it’s just black until the morning light creeps through the blinds and morning punches me like a drunken sailor seeking revenge.
This one completely stuck with me though and all I wanted to do was write it down but it was freeze framed and it has taken eight coffees to shift the images and get them on the page, sure to give me a headache later but let’s not worry about that.
We were in school, of course that was strange to start with as I never knew you then, but our dream selves didn’t find it odd, I guess dream selves never find anything strange, I mean its their world they are living in isn’t it? Anyway, we were walking around a circular racetrack, talking and I was trying to hold your hand, constantly holding out mine to you and waiting for you to take it. You remained calm but there was no connection, you wouldn’t touch me, you just talked and I listened and wished that you would hold me and everything would be fine and you could stop the rain that was now drenching us but you didn’t and as I looked down, one arm was dragging on the ground and I did not dare stop to pick it up unless you continued alone and so I carried on and at one point, it just fell off and I did not look back, I just looked at you as normal.
As we continued, every guy in the world seemed to be trying to get at you, of course I wanted to push them away but as I tried I realised it was a phantom limb swinging and thrusting and nothing was having any effect and I just wanted to scream at them to leave you alone and give me my fifteen minutes of you which beats any fame that Warhol had set up for me. But they kept coming and I could see your smile cutting me like a knife as it found new lights to fly towards.
I tried to stay beside you but my feet sank into the slowly setting cement that the track had now become. Slowly but surely we got further apart until all I could see of you was a shadow, you had become merely an image in my head and the dream froze with just an old image of you and me, side by side, all limbs attached, more in love than any two people have ever been.
Dreams are dumb, but sometimes they are all I have. I get more coffee, look at some photos of us and sigh. Time is a cruel master and the only reward is loneliness. I’m a full bowl of clichés tonight it would seem, enough to make the calmest girl sick to her stomach. Emetic relationships have to end sometime. That time is now. Actually that time is years ago. What time is it? My watch is cracked and broken and my heart feels pretty much the same.