Identity and Death

I have a new boyfriend; well, by “new” I mean we have only been dating since August and therefore not a year yet. Still, the relationship is a good one. We have a lot in common. We are both foreigners, he is Russian while I am Romanian. I had one of my first dreams about him right after the New Year. In my blog, he will simply be called, “The Russian.”

Part One:

We were discussing and arguing about our heritages and the uniqueness of each of them. I told him that I have to accept my Romanian side because I cannot run away from it. I cannot outsmart my past. I told him that he must act on the same impulse himself. He nodded at me in understanding.

Part Two:

I was attending a new university. I believe it was Western Washington University, and I was on a campus tour. The woman leading the tour was continuously discussing an “old” professor. By the way she was discussing him, I knew that he was dead and his death happened recently. I decided to ask the woman about him and inquired, “What had really happened to him?”

She explained to me that he had been fighting a custody battle for his three sons. He had unfortunately lost the battle and decided to commit suicide. He shot himself, but I am unclear in my dream as to if it was in his head or his heart.

While she was saying this, she was caught up in emotion. I could feel it spilling out of her, and it caught in my throat like a lump. I gasped at her, in shock of her telling me so blatantly. I then apologized and said that I shouldn’t have asked. She said it wasn’t a problem, but then she asked to be excused and rushed off to the restroom.

GAM

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Professor’s Thanksgiving 

There was a huge gate and fence surrounding a building. This metal fence had locks all over it. The fence was protecting a house full of cats. There was even a river running between the entryway of the house and the gate. There were homeless women near the entryway of the gate, on the outside, looking in towards the house. A female professor was talking to the women and insisting on all the reasons why they should come for Thanksgiving. The women end up leaving, insisting they would be too much of a burden. The professor doesn’t like this answer and decides to follow the three women. Before they leave, I make eye contact with one of the women. I recognized her, but she left before I could say anything.

GAM

Showing You My Pain

​I thought the sound of my voice would puncture my ear drums,

But still
You did not hear me
I thought I could call you
But you do answer your phone
I thought I could write you
But you do not respond
On your time is when I have you

I thought I could make you feel my pain,
So I grabbed you and held you close to me
I closed the physical gap between us
But you never felt my pain
You never heard my pain

I decided to make you see it
I sliced my skin open
I let the wounds bleed
But you never saw the red

Scabs formed,
And I took your hands to my wounds
You caressed my punctured skin
But you never felt my pain

I let myself die the last time in your arms, and when I died, I stopped caring about showing myself to you

I walked away from the only person I cared about more than myself. I’ll never know if you walked out after me or simply watched me walk away while you held my broken heart in your hands, still oblivious to my pain.
GAM

Wheels on our heads

​We were caught in a world hidden from us. Sheltered. Our bodies had been altered. A wheel placed on the back of our head like a hard pillow. This was so they could wheel us away if we passed out. Sarah Michelle Gellar was there and telling us not to take off the wheel because we didn’t know what it granted us. Citizenship, and freedom. I took mine off and threw it in an arena. One like at a baseball game. I left and went to a party, a meeting. It seemed I was at school and I sat at the desk. The rectangle desks became more round. I looked behind me to hear the man talking. First I drank some sort of orange juice with oreo cookie chunks in it. He was saying that there was a whole world out there that we need to explore. Nobody listened but I looked at him and pointed to my left ear. I mouthed the words that I am listening. I hoped nobody understood my signing, and he seemed to look nervous. We bolted from the room. We went past Sarah and kept going through jungle leaves downhill towards the gate of freedom. I worried about my citizenship and if I should have shaved the back of my head in order to see the bolt holes. I kept running.

GAM

Why I Smoke

When I miss you, I smoke.
I let the cigarette linger on my lips,
A reminder of your taste.
I hold the smoke in
And keep holding until I can bare it no longer.
I slowly exhale and wonder about you.
Where are you?
Making me guess, I think makes you feel powerful.
More like a man,
Taking care of business
But my heart should be your business too,
And more so than the chasing game.
I miss you, and so I smoke.
And hope the fire scorches my lungs until I can no longer breathe
Because not breathing is better than the absence of you.

GAM

Puppet George

A long time ago, my friend Vladimir got me a President George Bush puppet. This puppet is quite large and I play with it often. In my dream however, Vladimir helped me to assisinate the puppet. I don’t know why we had to kill the puppet, but after we did, we realized our mistake. The puppet was real. He lived. His size never changed, but he was a real person, and now we had to hide the body. We argued about the best place to do this at, and then I awoke.

GAM