264.

Why? : Whispers Into The Other

I had a dream about my dad the other night. He knocked on my apartment door and when I opened it, he gave me a big hug. I don't remember the conversation we had because I woke up shortly after the dream. When I was in therapy, my "special friend" (she didn't want me to call her a therapist) told me that when you dream about a lost loved one, it means you have accepted their death. Then reoccuring dreams are like "visits." The one problem with dream interpretations is that there are so many different interpretations for different circumstances. The most consistent dream interpreation was something along the lines of: "To dream about the death of a loved one, suggests that you are lacking a certain aspect or quality that the loved one embodies. Ask yourself what makes this person special or what do you like about him. It is that very quality that you are lacking in your own relationship or circumstances. Alternatively, it indicates that whatever that person represents has no part in your own life." I think I have just been thinking about him a lot. I'm proud of myself right now and I know my family is too. I just wish that he was here to see it all.

I'm becoming more and more apathetic toward attention from males and relationships in general. It's extremely disheartening. I've always been all about love and having bonds with people. I suppose after two years of being single, the search is bound to have a break. So I just keep thinking about my previous love interests, especially after recent conversations.

Have I become bug under thumb for your scented nails to glow by? I need out of my shirts I think you'll find attractive. On your hill perched so clandestine you rest like a second term president and I go destined to keep the crayon close and guess until my name goes red. At whose dead half-daughters were denied your womb on the down low? At whose half-sons come a lump in my throat and man my fever with an army of frogs underskin? And I don't want to dance with your shadow no more. Or listen through an elephant's ear for your whispers into the other. My curse is the circuit that your fingers rehearse on me to quell my nerves. And my only one is for you to king me with wavecrest and not stethoscope with the core, not tentative as you were. Choosing soup cans from the cupboard for your grade school's Thanksgiving food drive, no. But I'm the only one pulling near clear from a melted crayon under the comforter some man cured your goosebumps with. I'm sick and stuck on something you. Every time I see a Honda Civic my heart just jumps right through. I do it by your nails' light but nothing comes, it's true. And I'm caught in a pipe to smoke my own limbs off. And I don't want to dance with your shadow no more. Or listen through an elephant's ear for your whispers into the other. Another gum gut morning telephone restraint. He's in your bed. Has he taken my place? Another gum gut morning when I see you face-to-face. He's in your bed...