Letter to the impossible dream, July 1998

About a month ago Erica passed along the message that you would be willing to begin writing to me so that we could re-establish contact.  I've really thought about it and have decided that I think I would like to try this.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This leads me to the next point, which is what I think would be beneficial for us to talk about, at least at first.  While I don't want to limit the subject of our letters to some impossibly restrictive list, at the same time I don't want to get into what caused the separation, at least not yet.  As I'm sure you know all too well, we can't solve our problems in a letter format, and I just don't think it would be useful to try.  Instead I'm hoping that we can simply share things about each other's lives so that we can develop a level of trust; once that trust exists, we can then address what led me to take the steps that I did.  I'm sure at some point we will both feel a need to discuss the choices we each made during these past six years, but that too is something that I believe is better left until a later date.

A sliver of blue

Diary entry, January 11, 2007

I am sick of my dreams at night, sick of the struggle with myself about my past, sick of advice, sick of worrying about doing the wrong thing, sick of fear at all, sick of always waiting waiting waiting...

Silenced

New Years' Eve, 1982

And I remember how something could
break every word you spoke,
make you sound like you were
choking
as the heaters along the floor blew
your sheer polyester drapes in
an uneven ballet,
        suspended,
        mid-air.

Dream Journal, February 22, 2005

Was having terrible thoughts last night before I went to bed; felt like I was going crazy.  Had a very rough week.

I had a dream I was back in school, but with a teacher I really liked.  I loved the class so much that I was almost sad when it ended, I hadn't been watching the clock at all.  When I got out of school it was pitch black outside.  I had a long walk home and to get there I had to go down this short stretch of really dark street. It scared me so I started to walk very quickly.  There were trees and the sidewalk was narrow.  When I noticed shadowy people around me I stuck to the curb so that cars passing by would see me if anything happened.  I wondered why I hadn't gone the way home I normally did, that was better lit with crossing guards.  The problem was, I couldn't remember that route anymore; it also wasn't the most direct path.  Nor did it seem that much safer, because I thought I still had to walk down a dark block at some point.

I felt massively relieved when I got to the well-lit section of the street, but then I started hearing this ominous voice telling me how everyone was going to blame me.  No one would believe that he, the voice talking to me, was the one who had planned everything.  I couldn't see who was talking until I passed a man wearing a very scary mask and a robe.   I attacked him and fought him, managing to pull his mask off.  It turned out he was the head of the local Chamber of Commerce.  Once again he said no one would believe me.  As he went off I had this thought that he was going to be caught—that I would catch him on tape.  Seemed like it might be okay in the end.  

Knots