devvyn

I had a dream this morning, in which I was out in public--a restaurant, I think--and Angie was standing there. She hadn't noticed me, so I began to walk toward her. I hesitated in my tracks, thinking to myself, "do I want to just walk up to her after all this time and just start talking to her?" I think I was still trying to decide, when she turned and saw me, so I opened my mouth to say something like "hi", but instead what came out was "we don't talk any more." She paused, and said, "I know". The rest of the dream is a haze as I began to wake up, but I don't think the conversation went on past that.

My analysis:

I don't use dream dictionaries or anything like that. I know that dreams are mostly based on existing ideas and images from our minds and therefore any meaning in the dream is fairly concrete. The fact that I said "we don't talk any more" instead of "hi" tells me that no matter how I try to re-introduce myself, I'm going to come across as missing her. I suppose I do miss her. I don't feel I need her to be part of my life, nor to I feel she should have for all this time, but she was a big part of it for a while so I shouldn't be surprised to have to admit that I do in fact miss her enough to want to find out how she's doing. The fact that she said "I know" in response to "we don't talk any more" tells me I have no confidence in getting a positive response, and that I expect her to be mostly uninterested in striking up a conversation. But most interesting of all is that the conversation just sputtered out and I woke up. This means I don't have any images of how that conversation would progress. So, again, I'm curious, and I will contact her. Soon, I suspect.

I will want to say all the things I've said in my LiveJournal, but that could be very difficult to deliver. Just a "hello" doesn't offer any explanation, however. So, I have to figure out what to say.

Something odd happened today. Journal entries from someone I used to know mysteriously appeared on my "Friends" page. For years, there have been no entries from her on that page, and I never thought it was enough of my business to actually visit her journal or otherwise try to figure out what's going on in her life. I assumed her journal had been abandoned. In fact, as strange and made-up as it may sound, I was actually thinking about that yesterday. I was tempted to even try to email her, but every time I thought about it, I always pictured this awkwardness where expectations would be too uncertain as to the reason for contact, and I wouldn't know what to say or how to carry on a conversation because somewhere in the back of my head I'd be thinking she's trying to figure out my motive and, well...I always had the tendency to over-analyse but that is my reason for being reluctant, nonetheless.

Angie, my favourite thing about you was always your blunt openness. Never since we parted ways have I ever felt such an intuitive interpersonal connection. Maybe my perception was biased because I was so young and naive. If I had to compare you to an inanimate object for the sake of analogy, you'd have to be a pitcher of delicious lemonade (with pulp). What other sour drink can be sweet and delicious while still staying true to the flavour of the lemons? I'm not sure why the pulp is there or what it represents, but it's there.

Whether or not we ever speak again, I'd like you to know that although I let go a long, long time ago, you've always stayed a part of my memories--a very tumultuous and formative collection of memories. You taught me so many things. I learned to accept myself not by conforming but by exploring. I learned that trust goes both ways. I learned that showing respect is more involved than simply going through the motions. I learned not to make assumptions about another person's feelings. I started learning to let go when the time is no longer right to hold on. I feel uncomfortably obsessive for even writing this, but it's been bothering me for a very long time that I never got the chance to say these things without it sounding composed and meaningless. My only reason for saying these things is because they were never said.

The way you've stuck around in my mind is more subconscious than anything, I feel. Thoughts about my early adulthood do bubble up from time to time, and I have to admit you were quite a significant part of it, so, naturally, you're hard to forget.

If I do contact you, it will be out of curiosity. I feel I've changed, mostly for the better. I'd like to know if you've changed, too. I read a couple of your journal entries, and you seem to be going through a tough time at the moment. Now would probably be a bad time to say hi, so I'll wait until things are more stable and maybe, just maybe I'll make myself believe you will have some interest in talking with me, even if it is just to say hello. I'd rather hear directly from you than try to piece it together from your DeadJournal.

If you read this by some bizarre coincidence, please let me know. Otherwise, time will tell.