Dreams; A Cocktail of Reality

There is a beatuy in loss. There is something to be gained in loss.

In my dream today, I have found a piece of reality.

You see... I dreamt of a loss, not too foreign, yet not personal; and how a peace was bought with the shared burden of loss and separation. Under the winding intestines of a massive flyover, we gathered -- all 4 of us, in the rain. You were my brother, we were squatting. He and She were there too, our parents, walling around us and peering over our shoulders as they always did. In spite of the rain, our attention was turned towards an object within -- a toy, a noisy little object.

To you, my parents, it was noisy, and annoying. You make a comment, show your irritation and object to our fasciantion; you stand there nonetheless, while my brother and I investigate our newfound interest and struggle to balance your opinions. I asked: what don't you like about it? You just stood there, but I understood. I saw in your presence that you understood yourself and you were beginning to accept us. The you I remember was not like this, well, at least not before the divorce was confirmed.

I remember that piece of paper, calm and grotesque laying accusingly on the floor, in the rain. Your signatures were on their respective places on the lines -- imprisoned and convicting. Innocence is the first victim of war, and we were the last prisoners of your negotiations. With each drop of rain, the paper crackles its protest. With each drop of rain, your signatures become more dilute. They run, as we did, from their prisons.

I felt warmth; the panacea of understanding and the comfort of peace. You had your battles to fight, and we had ours. All we wanted was this. Smiling through the rain, I asked: why couldn't it have been like this before this? Tears and rain. It was the same.

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A dream, or a cocktail of reality?


JKLM