You never know who’s going to turn up when you close your eyes for a bit. It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about her. It was an odd one though because I knew it was a dream. She’d never dragged her ass down my way before and you’d think that would have been a sign, but who pays attention to signs anyway? There she was though thumping herself down beside me in bed like it was a regular thing.

What are you doing here?

You called me.

I didn’t.

You did.

Look at my phone. I can show you.

You wrote that thing on your thing. Your blog.

Not everything is about you!

I was defensive. I was shocked. I felt sick. No, not everything is about her, but it would be dishonest to say I hadn’t called her. Fact is, I haven’t written about her. Once maybe, a while ago. I’ve been thinking about her though. There was that day on yet another long march when the missing got too big and it came up from my toes. Her name came up through the soles of my shoes and up my legs and into my groin and up through my torso into my throat and I looked up at the sky and forced itself past my tongue and my teeth and up into the air, like a spout.

Old Faithful, and yah that’s how the thoughts come on the regular. It’s been a while though, to be fair.

So yes, I called her this time. I called her and she came and she said she came because I really needed her and warned me that she wouldn’t be staying. It wasn’t happening, she said and she wanted to explain some things. She said she wanted to clear the air but I wasn’t having any more words that I didn’t want to hear. I forced myself awake. There is nothing I need to hear anyway. It’s selfish of her to put that on me too. I don’t’owe anyone anything.

Of course, you may be thinking, that some things need to be heard and that maybe listening would bring closure. All the closure is there though. It is. Explanations don’t really matter. Acceptance? Yes. Explanations. No.

(and later reading back on this it strikes me that it sounds angry, but that’s more the byproduct of words not so carefully chosen and didn’t reflect the mood in which they were issued. That’s unfortunate, because the feelings were actually rather sentimental. The dream was a bit jarring but not unpleasant.)