Client DR.HA.110 - lost…

(Beep. Music fades in)

There was a white flower on the desk in your office. In the dream, I mean. The first one that wasn't about her.

In some cultures, they put a white flower on the desk of a teacher or student who has died as a sort of memorial. Vaguely speaking. Or that's the well-meant version of the gesture. On the other hand, if the student were still alive then it's…. Wishing thinking, to be polite about it.

But that didn't make sense. Because it's not a symbol in either of our cultural language. But it is something I've encountered along my figurative travels.

Regardless of how, there it was. And I knew what if could mean, so I stepped forward, towards it. And maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have let the sinking feeling in my stomach speak for itself. But I couldn't. Because the white flower shouldn't have meant anything to you.

I walked towards it. I saw the note beneath it. The white note. With black chicken scratch jumping out from the page.

"I hope you can understand why I can't stay," it said.

But I really couldn't.

(Music fades out. Beep. New music fades in)

I stayed in the city after graduate school. Might not have been wise, but it's what I wanted to do, so I did it. I jumped onto the roster of a few temp agencies. They were happy to have me. None of it was glamorous work, but it did pay my rent. And then that trajectory sent me flying into a globally minded initiative with humanitarian undertones. Or so they would say. Having worked there, though, I am very inclined to disagree. It could be shady at times. And they knew that. The initiative head tried to exclude me, the figurative second in command (which was questionable right there), from a lot of what was going on. And I let him. It was easier that way. But still, eventually plausible deniability stopped being an option.

So I left. Landed on my feet though. And now I'm at a better place in many ways. I like my job now. Here I can actually have free time that's respected.

I don’t use it all that well. Sometimes I go to a park--literally any park--and just sit, ignoring my phone and all the connections to my past life that linger in it. If it weren't for the digital world, I could have made a complete break. But even still, I could do that now. I'm just lazy I guess. Or I don't have a reason not to be. And that's a pretty big improvement, to be honest.

(Music fades out. Beep. Music fades in.)

The dreams only got more graphic from there. I watched you die a hundred times. And as a result, I couldn't sleep. Not in a clichéd way. I mean I really couldn't sleep for my own sake. It became a matter of survival at some point. I really couldn't take it. I couldn't handle it.

And that was pretty selfish.

(Pause.)

There was one dream where you didn't die. And it didn't look like I was going to have to watch you die. It started off normally. With my friends and I doing something absurd like fighting pigeons for lackluster fries. I don’t remember exactly, but it was something like that. And then you entered the scene and the dream shifted. The pigeons disappeared. My friends did too. However, the fries lingered until I chucked them aside.

You didn't stay long. You came in and then just as quickly you were leaving. I watched you walked away. I should have followed you. I could feel the dark air that lingered around you. And I was afraid. I knew what it meant. What it signified. And that further proved that I needed to go after you. Knowing what you were going to do.

I should have followed you. On the off chance I could help you. But I didn't.

I followed her instead.

(Music fades out. Beep. New music fades in)

I wanted to be tough. That was like a lifelong goal of mine. I also needed to be tough. For my own sake. For my own life. After all, I had vultures constantly picking at my body. They had always felt entitled to do as much. So it was going to be a hard fight, and for me to fight it, I'd have to be strong.

And you made me that way.

I remember you telling us that the point of some author's book or chapter or something like that was to not be blindly obedient to anything or anyone. For the sake of…. Literally everything. I don't remember the context, the article, the chapter, the whatever. Because it didn't matter.  You didn't leave it there. You pushed it farther. You made it your own. And you pushed me harder.

After that class, I felt like there was only one thing for me to do. I went back to my dorm room and did something I never thought I never thought I would do. I took a pair of scissors and chopped off my long hair. Do you remember the braid I used to have? I hated it. My family loved it, but I didn't. And so I cut it off.

What was I doing exactly? I didn't know then. I still am not sure now, but I liked it.

(Music fades out. Beep. Music fades in.)

She followed you. And I followed her. Her walk was perfect for her. And I'm sure that's being unnecessarily redundant. I mean that only makes sense, right? There has to be some correlation there. But it was more obvious with her. And it made her a beacon in the storm she and I were approaching.

I followed her. Your wife. I started to, anyway. And I should have kept going. (Music cuts) But then I chicken out. (Music fades in)

I woke myself up and sat up in the dark apartment for a while. It was unsettlingly dark. Then again, night had never been all that kind to that space I mean, the lighting was never great ever.. There were many things wrong with that apartment, but it was a first apartment in the big city, so I don't know what anyone could be expecting.

In some ways, it was more than a cliché or a stereotype. It was almost like what you'd see in a sitcom. For one, my neighbor's were constantly arguing, all hours of the day and night but never so aggressively that I felt like I needed to call the police. And then there was that one car on the street out front whose alarm was constantly going off. A low hanging tree branch that really needed to be cut would occasionally or not occasionally brush against it. But that's part of city life, though. No matter how far from the start you get.

That night, my girlfriend was sleeping next to me. Curled up next to me, more accurately. Her body runs cold, and mine runs hot. You can imagine how it goes. Actually don't. Look, I try not to think about you at all when she's around because that would be weird. But it's hard because we wouldn't be together if it wasn't for you. For you toughening me up.

And then there's the nightmares that she is also dealing with. You know she's been my rock through all of this. Even on the nights I wake up screaming. Or when she wakes up to find me pacing the floor desperate to stay awake.

I'm not a good girlfriend. But she puts up with me. I don't know why.

That night, I curled up next to her. I don't always do that after a nightmare. Normally I give up sleeping until late the following night. By then, I'll be too exhausted to dream, and we can have something vaguely similar to rest.

But that night being close to her was just too tempting. It always is. I love her, you know. And I wouldn't have her if it wasn't for the push you gave me.

(Music fades out. Beep. Music fades in.)

The three of us were all sitting in a circle of metal folding chairs. It was a small circle. I sat across from the two of you. You were as disheveled as I've always known you while she was brilliantly put together and smiling her thousand watt smile. But there was a sadness to it. One fitting a goodbye from a heart great at celebrating former beauty.

I've been wondering about this. So forgive me for asking. But were eyes very expressive. Think the window to the soul cliché. It's just that she was wearing these large sunglasses. And I couldn't understand why.

"I love you," she whispered to you. "Don't forget that."

You hung your head a bit lower. And she rested a hand on your knee.

"We had a good run. And I'm grateful for it."

That's wasn't all she said. She said more things. Thinks I don't know if I should repeat. Were you there? Did you hear her?  Did that really happen? Do you remember that? Was that real?

(Music fades out. Beep.)

You don’t know what you’ve done. Okay. You can’t. If you did none of this would be happening. I mean, no. Something would have happened. Your wife, she would have still died. There was no preventing that. And you know that too. But I mean, the flower, the note, the goodbye. None of that has to happen.

I want to believe what your wife said in the last dream. Do you remember? She said that I made it possible for the two of you to say your goodbyes. That I was the bridge. And I want to believe that. But now I don’t know. It can’t be that simple. But I can do this. This last stand. And it’s just as much your fault as it is mine. Because you made this. You made a lot.

(Beep)