dreaming

Tobacco and Peppermint

He didn’t smoke. But everyone else around him did. It was so easy back then to make conversation. Just standing next to a shivering person in the cold, asking for a light. It didn’t matter much to him. He didn’t smoke and everyone else around him did. He would just keep the conversation going.

He’d say things that I would find absolutely fascinating. Stupid things that I think back upon years later. How easy the lines flowed from his tongue. Captivating a shivering crowd just keeping warm from a storm. How he loved lines like “Tobacco and Peppermint”, how each item went well as a before and after thought.

Things about him made him seem off. He didn’t drive. After having his license revoked from driving recklessly in his hometown, he relied on other people to get him where he needed to be. Things I understood. Everyone drove me around and driving always seemed like an after thought. Stupid things I still remember. Why do I still remember these things?

They could have been twins. The same sentiments, the same sense of humor. They couldn’t have been more alike. His only downfall was a dry sarcastic humor that people believed made him a genuinely likable person. We saw through that. Making jokes and calling him every name under the sun. He was not the sun, but how he acted like he was. I don’t know why I thought of him today. Or why after ten plus years, he seems to creep into my mind. But when my head hurts I think of the last time my head hurt. How weather changes my emotional state and it comes back to him.

I always wanted to say goodbye, but I never had a chance to. I wanted to say so many things but every word came out wrong. Tongue tied with wanting to say the right thing but every word tying together and  coming out wrong. I find myself talking to him in dreams in cities far from my hometown.  In dreams the words flow out easily then they do in my waking day. Some days, it’s easier to see people in dreams then in my waking day.  Instead I left a space for other people to fill with words and stories. I live off the adrenaline of other people’s stories. The words that flow so easily off their tongues. When I am left tongue tied with goodbyes.

Tobacco and Peppermint. How I tend to think of that line often.

I think of that crowded bar and watching bands play. How easy they made it seem. How their emotions came out in song and I still struggled to express myself. How the room was muggy and how none of it mattered. The rain poured down and I see you walk with her. Hand in hand not thinking anyone was watching. Just as you walked through the door your hands break apart. Gone back to reality and gone to different ends of the room.  Why was I so fixated on that moment. Why that memory about everything else. How poetic it seemed to see people walk in from the rain and break apart once they found shelter. For a moment they were each others shelter, until the real world settled in. That night creeps back to my mind once the weather changes. When I think of rainy days and crowded rooms; finding shelter from storms.

How the singer of a band came up to ask for the time, and stood and stared at a button on my coat. Almost waking me from my haze of dream state. We both became silent for a minute. Maybe in that moment we were both in that dream state. Trying to find the words in waking day. Or maybe he was just staring at a button on a coat of girl that reminded him of something else.

You can have it?, I said
Really?, he replied.
Yeah. it’s just a button.

I handed him the button.
While, he stood and watched.

Tobacco and peppermint.
Before and after thoughts.

 

San Francisco, CA 2003

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Goodnight, Bad Morning.

Goodnight, another bad morning. 

There was something peaceful about watching you sleep. Knowing that for once you would have nothing to say. Keeping everything inside, when in turn you would die to tell everyone. Inside where no one not even I would hear. Moments like these don’t last forever. Eventually that moment between night and day, we are bound to wake up from. At this point I didn’t care about anything. Not this time, not at this moment. Not the feelings, not the honesty about these reactions. I don’t think I ever slept for fear of waking up and knowing you’d be gone. Gone to reality. Gone to someone else. Gone to the person you were in the daylight.

For those moments when you slept, I loved you so much that my body ached. I loved you so much that it hurt my head. I knew this couldn’t last forever. Doing all these wrongs, never made a right. The morning would wake us and back to the carriages that were already turned into pumpkins. Back to the terrible reality that awaits us. Back to the doors to our souls we close so tightly behind our hearts. But when the night skies fight with the daylight thats when I loved you best. Thats when I felt everything and in turn said nothing. Maybe I was always dreaming. Waking up never felt as good as this moment. I could love you forever if I wanted to. I just don’t think I can. I don’t ever want to wake up.

Doing all these bad things, never made me feel good. Wanting you now, never changed who you were when we woke up. Even good nights have bad mornings. Even you will wake up to be as rotten as the rest. But that moment where the night fights with the daylight, is when I always loved you best. When my body ached from my head to my toes. When no matter how many times I cried out to you, you stayed right where you were. The only times I could have you is when the night would fight with the light. I know I have to wake up from this. I know I have to wake up to who you really are. We are the most terrible people in the most perfect lighting. But at this moment, this current state, even terrible people can sometimes be beautiful too.

What a beautiful state we’re in. 

3/16/2007

Wonderland.

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If reality were as perfect as our dreams, we’d never fall asleep. We’d formulate ways to stay closer to the ground, instead of reaching for the stars. Dreaming has a way of making you believe things so impossible could be real. How vivid the sounds, how vivacious the colors, and how beautiful the people in all their splendor. If only we could stay in this dream state for a little while longer. Just a little bit longer.

Flashing lights and we
Took a wrong turn and we
Fell down a rabbit hole.

It’s silly to believe that dreams could feel this realistic, when you know deep down you’re bond to wake up. Still I find myself believing in this unrealistic nonsense that somewhere in my subconscious, this could be real. Because in dreams is the only way that you and I exist. The only way that I truly believe had we made a play, this could have lasted. The only image I remember of you is so perfectly etched in my memory. Perfectly perfect in all your splendor as dreams intended for you to be. The real world would never let me have you. Reality was too much to bare and my obsession of fears could never allow you near.

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Still I reached for you and there you appear. Magic rabbits out of a hat, watching the colors of this story turn from vivid blues to vibrant greens. Dreams are our wonderland. Perfectly perplexed chaotic perfection. Watching ourselves run from one end of the mind to another. Spotlighting our mind to believe that this is exactly what we wanted in the end. Fears in reality take away the clouds of dreams. The tremor shakes in my hands stand still whenever you find me. I know I’ll have to come down from this, I know eventually I’ll have to come back home.

I reached for you but you were gone
I knew I had to go back home

The problems with dreaming is waking up to reality. Seeing things as they really need to be. If only reality were as wonderful as our dreams. Our dreams that shield us from our unimaginative reality. Its in dreams that we can run away. Its in dreams we are free to do as we imagine and believe. It’s in dreams I can believe that we have a chance when reality tells me other wise. Maybe I just have to let you go. A day will come when I reach for you and you’ll be gone. Wonderland is never suppose to be perfect, even behind smiles we find the lies and the cracks through the concrete. Still I just want to pretend that you’re perfectly perfected, even if this is our wonderland. Even in dreams we find reality, and in reality we find our madness. Wonderland you tricked me into believing that dreams could be as pure as perfection. Instead you made me mad in the process.

In the end in wonderland we both went mad.

It’s time for me to wake up now.