the dream felt like me. to feel like me feels good, and bad. the part about being a young girl looking down out a window onto a narrow street feeling drawn to the people and, the flow of life. the girl ends up in a mafia family working as a family member, then, not able to do what she is told to do, then, stealing away into the back seat of a car witch then suddenly takes off. we end up driving up and witnessing a fight, that escalates till one person kills another, then open fires at the only witnesses in the nearby car. I’m describing being shot at, to my partner, back under the covers after he woke up and he told me his dream. His dream was three images.
In the middle of my reaching into my memory to grab a detail of the feeling of being in the back seat of a car, with a suddenly mine baby, and how it had looked like just a drunk and the night watch, then the fight escalated to two bad asses and the drunk turned hit man, shoots the place up, while I’m in the back and the driver, he is the mafia guys driver, doesn’t drive off or let me out or help till the victor is shooting at us…
before I get there, the part about ducking, then suddenly remembering to reach back up for the baby, the man next to me in bed, who I’m telling my dream to, asks me were I put the grocery shopping list.
the end of the dream stuck in at least six places. stack of bad memories, stack of grudges, stack of hurt feelings, stuck in throat, beginning to squeeze out eyes, and just a drop of it in a tiny place of reason, there are more spots, but not logging.
bad timing to break down and tell him he is being an inconsiderate listener, but, I do. he doesn’t even know what i’m talking about. not the best timing, or treating a man.
the day, ruined for both of us in most of the sparkle eye aspects. my sparkle went and extinguished his on the way out. we mope. what is it we love about each other? what is it that i needed? what have i loved in my life? why have i loved?
oh, i feel love when you are interested me.
so does he, and everyone else.