…aren’t just pictures, aren’t just random musings of an unconscious mind. Dreams are where real work gets done, beyond the physical. Where healing can happen. Where rifts between souls can be healed. And last night, once again, I dreamt of you. 

Whenever you’re in my dreams, we’re in separate rooms, separate spaces. You hate me still. When you saw me this time, you rolled your eyes in teenage disgust. Not her, again.

But I needed to tell you something. I needed to tell you I’m leaving LA, about my new job, that I’m probably going to land in Irvine. That I’ll be going to a certain synagogue. I needed to tell you, so you could avoid those places, so you could avoid me and avoid the pain and fear that seeing me brings to the surface. I just wanted to warn you.

So I sent a note to you, instead, through a mutual friend. A game of telephone, because I can’t phone. And then woke to the sound of church bells, as my alarm brought me back to this world. 

My daughter said l looked drained, like I hadn’t slept all night.


First Date

Unexpectedly, out of the blue, a man I met a month ago at a poetry workshop called me. Right in the middle of this crazy week, on a crazy day. And I asked him to call back in a few hours, as I was slammed just then, and he did. Left a message about another poetry group that I have no time to go to until at least mid-June, so I didn’t call back. And then he called me again yesterday, just nicely following up, no pressure, just checking in. A sweet man, I knew already from how kind he had been while we wrote poetry and he gave me the comfy spot on the couch, taking my uncomfortable chair. An educated and interesting man, I knew already from the hours we had spent talking at the group dinner afterwards. So I told him I was free this weekend, and he asked me to dinner, and that’s all good – a nice surprise to end my week.

But now, I’m having an anxiety attack. Never had this reaction before. Not at all because of who he is, but because the last time I was in this position, I got very, very badly burned. Two and a half months ago, I had the perfect first date. That’s a whole long story, and if you feel like reading my 80 or so poems about it on Cytherean Dreams, go right ahead.

The point is, I went into that one so secure in knowing that no matter what, I would be fine. I kept saying, “I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts,” thinking it was temporary heaven and hoping like hell it wasn’t. And then it ended, this intense mini-relationship (lasted essentially one week)…and it hurt like nothing I’d experienced before.

Worse than my divorce. Worse than being left by the man I left my husband hoping to be with.Worse than the huge, universe-twisting fights I had with my twin flame (again, lots of poetry on these, too). Crying every day kind of hurt…it’s gone down to every few days, now, but it still hits me.

But I have to have the courage to move forward, because what else can I do? Sit by myself and drown in my sorrows? And I do believe I meet people for a reason, and there’s a reason I met this one, at this time.

So, dinner tonight. And try to breathe deeply and just see what happens next.