The Box

I hear traffic and the rustling of blinds mixing with the whistle of the wind and showering of sprinklers against the bushes. The silence of programs running in the background overlays itself on the quiet humming of LEDs charged with electricity. A faint scent that can't quite be named rushes through the window, down the wall, over my covers and into my nose. Bitter, yet appeasing. Classics radiate through the wood, paint and drywall separating my room from the next, but it's too low to mind. At least, not at this time.

The whirlwind thoughts expanding before me take me many places I dare not normally go. But tonight I stand above it all in my mind, looking down as if to make judgement on something I don't quite understand. And it's there, as the air of doubt blows through me, that you appear, locking your arm and fingers into my own. I am not afraid. 

Only in such a lonely place do you come to me now, reassuring everything being planned out will succeed. I turn to converse, but your face is distant, as if sand would be so arrogant to blend your features into your flowing hair. Again, your face is a mystery to me. And for the first time, you let go. 

The cool air chills the already cold sweat I find myself once again drenched in. Somehow, it's hard to open my eyes, but I can already tell more than the classics have faded into the night. You will not be there when I sit up, reach for my cigarettes, and ponder one more time who you are. Slowly, the realization that you are fading from my sub conscious engulfs me, with the only logical sense about the situation being that my self confidence has grown exponentially. Therefore, you don't need to be there to hold my hand as I shape my world. Bitter, yet appeasing. For no matter how joyous it is to finally feel in control, the lingering mysteries of who you are and why you were there will always grasp my attention in the middle of the night. 

Closing the curtain, I consider the possibility of a metaphor playing out right in front of my eyes, guided by my own actions. I remember the quote in that passing moment, "Underneath every cynic is the tragic remains of a bleeding heart romantic." In less time than it takes to snap a finger, I probe the idea that I am still one and the same. I shrug it off. I know the markings of the ceiling like the back of my hand, but I know this may be the last time I stare at them for such a duration. I tell myself it's going to be okay. 

But this time, with a smile. Because I'm not reassuring myself. I'm making the bold, true statement. It's going to be okay.

Welcome to Costco, I Love You

I like to imagine that some dreams are the manifestations of alternate dimensions. We just haven't yet thought to explore the concept.

It wasn't like they say, that we knew right away. It took a moment. Or maybe we hadn't actually looked one another in the eye until that point. But it became obvious as things laid themselves out, rather than that romantic business people always swoon over.

It was in a department store. I was new, which was awkward, because I was older than most of the crew. More so than I'd like to admit. It was last call at the check out stand, and everyone was very orderly and in a rush to get out. Maybe because it was a holiday. But it was definitely dark, like a winter should be. I had no idea what I was doing. Some young kid had to show me how to key in the register and scan items too large for the bar code reader. A disgruntled customer, arriving at the last minute, made some off handed remarks about my ineptitude. Remarks I somehow brushed off as I continued on to the next patron.

It was late. I was tired. I didn't see attraction at first. I didn't notice beauty. Just another faceless consumer, confused about a product. 

Something about a sister. Maybe sick. Or maybe in trouble. I don't recall. It wasn't dire. Not dangerous. Just something that had to be dealt with promptly, and if I could please help differentiate these two products. I hazily obliged. Even then, it wasn't there. It was somewhere in between scanning that something was said. A belief, or closer to a philosophy. Something that made us both look up. The look that felt like two old souls that had lived together forever, sharing tea after a hard day on a porch, resting their hands in one another. Enjoying the scenery for what it was and nothing else.

It was like waking up. An immediate understanding. Synapses firing back and forth, not separately, but between the two of us. So blatantly obvious that my supervisor gave me the time to sit and talk with you. After hours, doors locked, in a deserted department store. Plans had to be made. Schedules checked. Conversations with relatives and friends. Numbers swapped. Not in that stupid modern convention by digital device, either. On napkins in blue ink, like we used to have to do in our youth. A sort of binding contract, both of us so eager to sign. Maybe that's why. So our signatures could symbolize a piece of one another, and because we were so eager to share ourselves with one another, to have a piece of the other, to get started right away.

And then silence. Such a long awaited calming of the mind, so much so that it reached me in my sleep. Peace. Eternal gratitude toward the universe, something I've always had but never always felt. You felt the same way, and we were both confident. I was, for once, confident. Not cocky. Just sure.

And then I woke up. The duality of emotions seething through my muscles. It wasn't real. I still don't know you. I would never know you in that time or place. You are still lost to me, nothing more than a thought or idea, barely even a haunting spirit come torturing my mind. Just a distant dream. Just a dark, quiet room full of my thoughts and an overwhelming sense that I've lost something I never truly had in the first place.

And yet. All at the same time, somewhere in some far off dimension, secret and untraveled. All of that is taking place. In an infinite number of planes within an infinite number of realities, or maybe it's the other way around. We find each other again and again and again. Without even knowing we're out there. A merciful comfort. A smile. Someday you'll pop up. Or I will. Overt and obvious, undeniable, crystal clear. Tonight the comfort wins. I'm going to be able to roll over and fall back asleep. I'm content with that. I miss you. I miss you and I've never even met you.