Tonight's Dream-Naomi

If I have many more dreams, I think I'll start a new blog to document them, but for now, they're going here. The thing that amazes me about dreams is how detailed they are and also how much slips through the cracks. I can remember precise information on what people are wearing, layout of terrain, light sources etc. but I can't remember why that person is there.

So my dream-Naomi:

I was in a barely-furnished apartment on the second floor at around 10-11 at night. The apartment had a small concrete balcony with a steel handrail. Someone came to the door and I answered it. It was a couple in their mid-twenties. I had just gotten to the apartments a couple of weeks ago and was only there temporarily, so I didn't really know anyone. They had some issue with getting into their apartment or contacting someone to pick them up or something like that and needed a phone to contact someone.

We got into a casual conversation over a beer while they waited for a friend to come help with their problem. I told them that I just got there and would only be there for a few months. When I told them this, they invited me to a party they were going to.

After a little more small talk, their friends came by. There were probably about 4 of them, meaning there were now 7 people in my apartment. I had a good stock of beer so we shared some beer and I met a few people, including one guy who was really tall (he was notable, but I don't know why). After a little while we decided to head to the other party. It was on that walk that I met Naomi.

We walked out of the apartment building and went on a road to the right which bordered a field on the left. There were no sidewalks and no traffic, so we walked down the middle of the road as a disorganized gaggle. The streetlights were only on the right side were the only source of light. It had just rained and the asphalt was wet. It FELT like rain, I could feel the moisture and I could smell it.

The couple that originally came to the door walked slower and I walked with them since I knew them better than anyone else there. They pointed out people and told me who they were. Naomi is the only one I remember.

She was walking between the couple and me and the main group in front. She was probably 5'6", a little overweight (not obese), had pale skin, and dark hair a bit past her shoulders that flipped up a bit when it hit her shoulders. She was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and jeans. her shirt was ribbed with vertical ribs. I don't know how/why I remember details like that.

I walked up to her right side and introduced myself in a sort of awkward way. She introduced herself and smiled at me, I smiled back. We didn't talk much knowing we would get to know each other better at the party. We just walked together, enjoying the night...

RING!!!!! RING!!!!!!!

I'm wide awake now.

Dammit, it was a dream!

-Me
"Hello?"

-Coworker
"Hey, are you ready for work yet?"

-Me
"I don't work today"


-Coworker
"Oh, sorry for waking you up" (he sounded genuinely regretful, so I couldn't be that pissed)

-Me
"It's alright"

-Coworker
"Alright, well I'll talk to you later"

-Me
"Later"

On an afterthought, I probably wouldn't have remembered the dream at all if he hadn't called, so I really can't be pissed at all. Someone once said something like this: You know you're living your dreams when you wake up and don't regret leaving your dreams cause real life is that good. I didn't enjoy waking up, so my life isn't that good yet.

Guilt, Pain and a Father

Photo by "Takras" of Flickr

My father is out of work. He has been out of work for a while. My mother found he left the country to follow a wild fantasy of his own. She accepted him back, but it's not the same. He has a million regrets.

I feel terrible for him, cause I know what it feels like. What it feels like to remember sharply a wrong you did years ago. How it bites you and torments you to the point where you want to strike out against something, but the only one to blame is yourself. I KNOW HOW IT FEELS.

What I don't is how to help him. To let him realize how much I respect him. To have him realize all the good he's done. It's the fatal flaw of the perfectionist; there is only one score you keep, and that's how many shots you gave up.

These are easy to calculate, but the other's are always harder for some reason. There was someone who did a study that said that a person has to have 7 times as many good things happen to him as bad for them to accept things as generally good. I don't know if he's right, but it seems correct. It's a hard tally to keep.

I love my father, and more than that I empathize. I KNOW what he's feeling; I FEEL what he's feeling. My mom loves him too, but she does not know what he feels. To her it's a science experiment; you can explain in detail every bit of the story, but the greater meaning is lost. She doesn't feel it; but she understands that I understand... and she has no idea how.

I want to break through to my dad, so we can communicate as friends. So he can understand he's not alone, to understand we're in this together, to understand I'd do anything for him... cause as his son I know he'd do anything for me. I just don't know how.

Currently listening to: The Mission (M is for Milla Mix) by Puscifer