Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Dreams of the Past

There's a certain recurring dream of mine which takes place up in my old stomping grounds of Boston. I've had this dream many times throughout the years, and now I find it haunting me for the past two nights. I'm always wandering the streets of Southie, where many of my close friends and I spent the majority of our time in the early 2000's.

Everything looks exactly like I remember it, although time has passed in my dream along with reality. It's always present day, with the acknowledgment of time passed, and it always stars a revolving cast of friends I once held dear. Anyway, I won't bore you with too many details of a dream that only it's protagonist would find interesting. But, I will say that I boy I once loved deeply, who was my world for quite a few years, always makes an apperance. It never lasts too long and it's hard to describe the nature of the interaction. It's bittersweet and warm. It feels like getting lost while being found. But it always reminds me of love. So I wrote him a note to say Thank You and I shall post it here:

For the second night in the row, I've dreamt of a time that used to be. Walking down streets past red subway stations and Irish pizzerias. But I realize it's not a journey back in time, it is a journey back in place. For every night that I walk those streets, catching up with familiar faces I thought I'd never see again, we marvel at how long it's been since I've been back to that place. And it's great to see these people.. people whom I hope I'd recognize if I saw them in the waking hours. But then, right on cue, yet somehow unexpectedly, you always show up. Usually on that steep street that overlooks the water if you're standing right at the top of the hill. And we don't know if it's ok to see each other and catch up as friends, though we always want to. And we remind each other that at some point we were family. So we make plans that involve meeting up at a later time that never comes because the hours on my alarm clock pass quicker than those in an imaginary world. But it feels nice, how perhaps it would be if I booked a plane ticket out of curiosity to see if Guinness is still served warm because the owners of that pub are more authentic than those in a land of palm trees. And I don't want to know how real or unreal the vision is, I just want to say thank you. Thanks for showing up. Thanks for the love.

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