My Dream This Morning

I had a dream where I received an email from you. You told me everything that had gone on in your life since we last talked.

You moved out. You’re in the southwest for now, but not attached to any place in particular. Your mother died. You're in school, you're working. You asked how I was, if I was any better, if I was doing all right. You apologized.

When I woke up, I reached for my phone. Reality became clear again as I checked my inboxes.

The idea of you reaching out after—however long? Silly. Silly, silly. I’m so silly. I don’t often think of you, and I don’t want to talk to you. But I’ve had reasons to give thought to you, lately, during the past week.

A part of me wishes you would, wishes you would maybe a year from now, so I can show you how poorly you judged me. Stupid. Spiteful.

You were a strange guy. I’m a stranger guy.

Any communication between the two of us would be nothing more than two strangers walking parallel to another, moving on concurrent tracks but never speaking or turning a glance.

Real messages would pass like fish gliding along the river current; briefly famous, but lost from sight as soon as they have arrived. You must be quick if you want to catch them.

We last talked five years ago, maybe more. Why were we friends?

Well. I’ll go fishing:

To: Whoever
Subject: RE: How are you these days?

Hi,

So sorry to hear about your mother. I think in general, I am sorry. I’m sorry.

I’ve been OK. Not much to report on. I’m glad you’re finding some direction. That’s good. I always knew you would do well for yourself.