Full moon dreams

Date: 1/22/2019

I am playing back an old tape in my Walkman. A story unfolds. The narrator is partly an old woman who visits her friend on Tuesdays (another old woman in a gold velour suit). They sit on the couch and her friend spits truth bombs at her. What clothes suit her. How she’s doing well at writing but could do better. I am talking to my ex, Ra. I hadn’t seen him in a dream since thirteen or so years ago. We are taking. Going over what happened when I left. At first, our conversation was light and I was enjoying it. But then he said: “The pain cage. That’s what you put me in... that’s what we’re in now. Just in case you’re wondering...” His tone was dark and threatening. I wanted to leave, but he continued. “That shirt is too bland and too staid. You need something bolder and more you. Weren’t you going to throw that shirt away when you left?” “I put it away for a few months.” I said. “Was that before or after you were sleeping with Sp?” I paused. Ra looked victorious. He went on, interrogating me. Had I called the pub when I left? What had I said? What had they said? I told him that they said we were friends and that I missed you and I should call. I didn’t... because... “Because you were a coward.” I hit fast forward on the Walkman and the scene changed to the assembly hall of my high school. I was putting out chairs in the second row to the back, endeavouring to be there early and save a space. As my schoolmates come in, I sit down and take out my laptop. We’re arranging tables too. As I place the last table, I tip my chair sideways and our whole row falls over sideways. I press fast forward on the Walkman again and I’m leafing through the pages of my journal from that year. I see poems and song fragments with chords that I am happy to find again. Then I am in my parents living room and mum is talking with me about her concerns. She says she will put five dollars by per week to support me to have enough to eat, but I say I am fine. Then dad asks why I won’t go outside and I say it’s because I’m anxious. I have a compulsion to check a lot. It makes me less anxious. Fast forward the Walkman again and I am in a scene with my son. He looks really skinny. He’s barely eating. I look healthy by contrast. I feel terribly guilty.