This morning I awoke from one of those strange dreams that stay with you for a while, tainting the day with a particular feeling. In the dream, I had taken a pair of scissors and slit open the ends of all my fingers. I could still feel them throbbing when I awoke.
I don't think they have an explanation for cutting the tips of one's fingers in the dream encyclopedia.
I spent a lot of time last night thinking about the things I've learned from relationships. I never understood before what it meant to be a partner with someone, how friendship comes first, really, and is above all else the single most important aspect of the relationship. You approach one another differently when you recognize the other as your best friend. I think I had this idealist notion of what relationship was, and tried my best to be so inside of the other person that one or both of us could not be seen, was lost...
My idealism has been touched by a harsh, but good reality. Tough love. When I think about having someone in my life now, I think about having someone to share things with, like a dear friend. For the prospect of marriage, I think of it now as less than a joining of "soul mates" (who knows if such a thing even really exists; or maybe, we just have more than one) and more a coming together of two people who want to help eachother LIVE. Support the others growth, their choices, their needs. And at the same time, always be able to come back into the home of your own Self. In a way, I think I've grown up to be more alone than I ever really wanted. But I think it's the truth of life -- we are, inevitably, alone. Even if we are sleeping next to someone we love, when sleep comes, you enter the dreamworld of your own.
Jason has been a very good friend to me. I know there have been times when, in the surviving idealisms of my mind, I've probably wanted him to be someone he isn't. It's hard to learn a new person, and not somehow in the very back of your mind expect them to be like the other person you once loved. It's a slippery place to be. It doesn't seem to matter, necessarily, how long it has been since the last relationship. When you enter a new one, the old one is instantly reignited, because that's where your patterns lie, your habits and behaviors. What I know of love, I know because I have loved. Therefor, are all our old lovers always with us somehow?
What I can say, is it's a pleasure much like returning to an old house you spent a great length of your childhood in, when I am able to reconnect with Josh for a cup of tea. There is a very kind familiarity there that I don't have with anyone else. I had this with Michael too, for quite some years afterwards, but in the last year or so this has changed. I'd call every year on his birthday, and that was our one reconnection. This year he did not return the call. And just like that, he's gone. Sort of like knocking on the door of someone's home and they aren't there anymore. You just sort of shrug, and get back in your car, and drive away.
Today's music selection: Joe Purdy
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