Friday, April 13, 2007

17th

I had a dream of you last night. Strange. Because I have never met you. But I had a dream of you last night. I have never talked to you, but I had a dream of you last night. I don’t know if we’ll ever meet, but I had a dream of you last night. And in my dream. In my dream, I heard your laugh. In my dream, I touched you. In my dream I knew what your skin felt like. In my dream I was close enough to see the fleckles of separate colour in your eyes. In my dream I was able to see each and every individual pore of skin on your face. In my dream…

I had a dream of you last night. It’s been a long while since I last remembered a dream I dreamt, sleeping three hours or less everyday now. But I had a dream of you last night and when I woke up, I thought I would get up, go in the next room and you would up, singing aloud, oblivious, eating cereal at the table, your ears ear-plugged, preparing for the morning and the hectic day.

I thought I would stand upstairs looking down at you, your black backpack on the table, that book you never leave whenever you leave the house on top of the backpack, bookmarked for when you would get a minute and dive into it, already tucked into your white pullover that looks softer than cotton and you so much softer, it breaks my heart that you have to go into the world each morning unescorted. I know you can handle yourself but since I saw you in that pullover, it’s been different for me and now I know why men go to war, underground, and risk their lives for the sake of a woman they love. I thought I would stand there, watching you. In my dream, my dream over.

I have not wanted to come here again for a long while. I have not wanted to write anything for a long while. I don’t think I will be writing for much longer here after this. I came back here for you. But when I had a dream of you last night, the sunshine days of lost moments at the Constitutional Square making it in the morning for another day, gazing at Crane building in the night, the taxi home bound nights driving past Statistics House and the ghosts that abound there, the watching for dawn sitting up alone nightmares, did not matter, when I had a dream of you last night, woke up and remembered I had a dream of you last night.

I thought I could not do this anymore. No, scratch that, rewind, and set the tape right. I can’t do this anymore. But I like to make the effort because you’re more than worth the effort because I had a dream of you last night and now I know what your voice sounds like, I know how you laugh, how your eyes crinkle in mirth is with me and you’re with me because I had a dream of you last night.

I had a dream of you last night. It has been the most peaceful dream, the most peaceful night, I have had in a year and a half. I want to tell you about the years before and what happened in that year and a half, there will be time, there will be time, but right now, I had a dream of you last night. It has been the most peaceful dream, the most peaceful night I have had in a year and a half.

All I know

Is everything is not as it's sold

but the more I grow the less I know

And I have lived so many lives

Though I'm not old

And the more I see, the less I grow

The fewer the seeds the more I sow

Then I see you standing there

Wanting more from me

And all I can do is try

Then I see you standing there

Wanting more from me

And all I can do is try

Nelly Furtado, Try

11 comments:

The 27th Comrade said...

You know, I am yet to figure out what (I don't believe it's a who, from the recent trend) the subject of the passion is.

Jah knows you really dance with expressions. Dextrous, deft. Fashioning a TV against that otherwise-eye-hurting theme?
You friggin' rock.

Klara said...

Lovely! N sweet!
I love Furtado too!

Just Rich said...

Imagine if you could paint your dreams... all those colours. Imagine being able to paint to percision the dimple of her perfect smile. Thats the only reason i wish i had been an artist instead of a bum.
I've said this before but whenever you write about her, i get genuinely afraid that you might be one of my alter-egos i just dont know about.

countryboy said...

yi'll say it till my jaws hurt: U are the master!

Sam said...

Oh, that is the sweetest thing a father would write of her daughter. You were talking about your daughter. I'm I right?

modoathii said...

dude, this is deadly. i can see her...oh, and...and..it's a clear image...i know what you mean 'just rich'.

o ye master...dooo

Princess said...

Nicely done!!

scotchbiscuits said...

aawww...u, u r so so sweet!!

Willie Boy said...

scotchbiscuits: if iwaya is so sweet give him some of the biscuits so he becomes sweeter. Man, sweet piece.

ish said...

27th; holla at me and we begin making a list of possibilities... i wanna kno who she is too

Dennis Matanda said...

My head still spins from the depth. Nice.