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danne |
Saturday, December 29, 2007
q •
even as people talk to me about other things that should concern me so, i find it impossible to think of anything else. isn't that unfair? isn't that dangerous? meet the tide, charades wasn't meant to be a way of life in this sense.unspeakable. i dreamt of some ugly town, and i can't remember the earlier bits. but deep inside the tower of the enemy i found a massive place, with the most magical spaces and architecture, with hints of classical and an aura of a fairytale miracle. there were children, not so derelict as full of wonder, only five or six or seven of them, rich in personality but not unveiled, because it wasn't important. f was there, and she presided over the children and the place like a lie, now that i'm awake i feel. fulfilled in understanding, with the calm peace that extrudes and mature glow which is made complete only by the most special sort of relationship. i was amazed, to tell the truth, when she showed me the place, by the way she showed me the place, and how i had already seen all that she could show in my search for her in that hollow, though who can say why or how i knew. and she was the center of the dream, the one that lasts beyond misty eyes. but the thing that hit hardest upon open eyes is how it's all a lie, self-fabricated. and i met a man, mature and grayed who presided over the whole grounds, though the place was not so much grounds as air, and platforms floated as if the whole place were not in the tower but on some other plane. the man gave the feeling of the sort who wore a suit and a kingly purple and peasant gray robe that hid it, and he showed me upwards, away from her. some sort of tinted light permeated the whole place, and it was such a dream. i saw the children building upwards, i remember that i said this: i wished i could build like this, out of the heart and inspiration only, in stone. and stone represented so much. i did remember what happened to the end, but now i don't. but in the end the thoughts that stayed were how idealized everything was, and how vision is so dependent on decision. i decided to love you, i decided to set myself to this purpose, i decide to commit to this feeling. there could be reasons, but they are not really reasons so much as they are attempts to justify decisions. but whatever they are, the most important thing is still the decision. because i want to say, i have decided, and i almost can, but i cannot. and this cannot continue, and charades cannot be a way of life, only real drama can. and you, others. i have a love-hate relationship with you only for these others' sakes. and g dreamt that i was going to die. i have never dreamt that, but i know what i would do, and how i would feel, because it's something i'm prepared for always. because you never know when something will crop up, and i will decide that to give this person, or these people more time to decide is so much more important that anything i could do with the rest of my time. because time is short only for such a short while, then time is long and nothing is left but that which was not. and i wonder if it's His will, even as i pray for only His will every time i pray, believe me. because the more i think of it this way, the more it feels like soon all this won't matter. and i wonder if i'll ever have the fortune to have that pleasure, to have someone, you, by my side looking at the work my hands would have wrought. and i have a blade too. but, unlike yours, it is double-edged, soiled, gray gold with a steel blade and two red tassels, tattered and frayed. there are reasons why there is nothing physical i fear more that being stabbed, but the reasons are probably just justifications for some below-the-surface decision. the significance is this: i have never trusted any man more. and this blade will be for someone special. as yours was. what else? hm. i bought a bracelet, of moonstone. it was for someone special too, but i realized that she'd left. i'd realized before i chose it with the attendant, but i continued because of a lie, self-fabricated. now it sits in a red and gold cotton pouch in the inner breast pocket of a blazer that was never supposed to be warm enough for the winter. and when i came back i bought a cross and a silver chain that's short because i wouldn't put it on properly to check, because nobody made me. because someone saw mine, and tsk-ed, and said they'd get a proper silver one with me. so ok. i went and got one with them. but they hadn't been there for a year. happy anniversary. what did you dream? there's always the chance that it was important. 10:15 am |