Sleep, gain, and loss, music to the ears.

My nap was splendid. There was a problem with a friend that was bothering me as I slipped into sleep. I had offered advice and comment previously. Both seemed off and both received responses that left me questioning some things. One hour and fifty five minutes later, I awoke on my waterbed, smelling dinner, and I believed Melissa had just been in our bedroom (did I ever say how gorgeous she is?), probably considering whether to wake me for dinner but she wanted to check on dinner before she made the decision. Sometimes she just stands in the room naked and wakes me with her presence and then offers a gentle smile. As well, I had dreamed a response to the friend. It seemed reasonable, so I decided to use it.

As things came into focus, I realized I was not on my waterbed because I do not have a waterbed. Weird. Then I realize that the presence in my room could not have been Melissa, I left her in Charleston years, decades ago, crying and looking down as I drove away never to return. And, that meant dinner was not on the stove. That threw me for a little bit of a loop. I was really hungry! Bah, ok, a few tears for lost loves to be sure.

Anyway, I pop up, clear the mental mess, and take note of what I have and need. The message from the dream! Can I remember it? I really am hungry, so a toast tuna sandwich is produced and does the trick. Certainly not the gourmet cuisine I had smelled. While doing this, I turn the machine on and let it stew until tepid. After completion of my supper, I go to the place where I am to post.

Then, I begin to get nervous. Will this be another failed attempt, swatted aside like all the other leavings. Will this just cause hard feelings as the others seemingly have? I am not sure if I am any longer in this lady’s grace, in any case, but not for my part. I present a little extra, something that was not in the dream, as my beginning. A personal note regarding my intentions and such. Then I let her know wherefrom the rest of the response arrived, and begin.

I am still a bit tired and heartsick, but I did my best. I can only hope it lends meaning to her toils and life. Perhaps it allows her to know someone she has never met thinks after her, her welfare, and her hopes and dreams. I do not know. I never will understand this place, people or their reactions, or the absurdities, profundities, and such which incorporate solely within the frame of the living again. One might even say I cannot understand youth, and what resides there. Though I lived it in my earliest youth, I was never a part of it. I knew it then as now. Perhaps I shall soon know her response.

Ah, a little Bach to wipe away my tears and reclaim the flesh as I continue to wake. Some music to send the whispers of doubt and dread to the corners of madness from whence they came. A little peace, for a moment.