hey, it's March. not much to say lately. I am in rehearsal, or I am in my office, or I am in transit. yesterday I ran five and a half miles and midway through I passed a small black dog, ostensibly waiting for his owner; as I ran by he hunkered down into a puddle, limbs splayed in four directions. he looked intensely contented. today in my midday break I went to the barn to work and ride. Cookie was sweet on the ground but wanted nothing to do with working; the moment I was on her back she was fiddling with the bit in her mouth, tossing her head, jigging around in no direction whatsoever. I got so mad I actually called her names. I tried to end on a good note but we couldn't even walk in a straight line. it's okay. we all have those days.
here's a dream I had last summer, mid-july; I typed it up in bed, without glasses, in the middle of the night, almost directly upon waking. it's more real than anything else I could say right now:
big thunderstorm tonight. the thunder woke me up and I felt compelled to stay awake, since we hardly ever have them, but I was too tired and instead slept fitfully, waking at each rumble of thunder. only when it started to rain did I get up, emerging to check on the plants on the railing. in the end it was a pretty great storm. I had been having a dream about ralph; he showed up to the house or something, out of the blue after two (nearly three) years, and wanting to renew everything, only there was aaron. he told me that aaron had tried to contact him, had sent him a postcard or something, and how all the folks who had graduated in his class in utica had ended up in portland. 'aaron looked me up in my yearbook,' he said, 'and underneath my picture it says 'plays pool, lives in portland.' I don't know what it is in me that refuses to let that lost thing go. it's as though I want some retribution, or ... what is the word? acceptance? forgiveness? absolution, maybe. I will never in my life forget that moment, so late in the cold, wth the patterned lines of frost from the roof of my car melting slowly into my arm; that moment where he said that unforgettable line: 'jess, if you didn't have a boyfriend, i'd plant one on you right now.' what is the real truth behind our story together? the nights of smoking and fucking on his dining room floor; the piles of food he made for me; that night after it had already gone wrong once, when we watched a movie and he let me put my feet in his lap. these are the great mysteries of my universe. is he here in this thunderstorm too?
in the dream I wanted to kiss him but also I did not. aaron was coming to take me on a date. when he knocked on my door ralph was there; I was terrified of what it would seem like even though I had not (yet) been unfaithful. but when I opened the door I suddenly remembered with great clarity how it felt to be deceptive to the person you truly love, and I wanted nothing to do with it. only there was still the problem of having one man on one side of the door, and one man on the other.