Any Dream Will Do

I've been dreaming really clearly the last two nights. Last night I dreamed that I was living in my old apartment building in Hawaii only it was present day and the building was here in Oregon--right next to this old pear orchard that I see every day on my way into town for work. I dreamed that I was living there and my friend Alex showed up with a bunch of guys who where there to play soccer and fix stuff. I didn't know he was moving in and he didn't know that I lived there. We just ran into each other one morning as I was coming out of the ground floor restroom. It was a happy reunion and we had a good time except for when one of the soccer guys fixed this thing that wasn't supposed to be fixed yet and blamed Alex. Alex of course promptly lost his job so I set him up with my room--my room here at my Mom's house--and was setting off to rectify the situation when I woke up. It wasn't a bad dream by any means. When I woke up I felt like calling Alex and telling him and if I hadn't had to get ready and leave for work I probably would have.

The night before last, I dreamed of Abbott.

I now know what it means to try to grab a dream by it's satin fringe as you're waking up. I understand what it is to be awake and trying to claw your way back into your dream and feeling your skin ache because no matter how hard your brain tries, it just can't grab hold of that dream except for a split second that stays jammed in your memory.

See, the thing is--when I was dreaming, everything was so clear that I was completely convinced I was awake. I was doing theater in this building that looked a little like the set of Bubba Hotep. I was sprawled out on a bench, sipping from a cup of coffee and suddenly there was Abbott, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Hellooooooooooo" wave wave "Erin, are you in there? I gotta fix this drinking fountain. Can you give me a hand?"

I jumped up, dropping my coffee and causing the disgusting liquid to splash everywhere (Irony: I had been drinking the stuff to stay awake). My shoes skidded as I jumped to him. He looked exactly like himself. The freckles on his arms were there. His beard had grown back in from the goatee to the full beard. He was wearing his "interview" outfit--a blue polo shirt and gray khakis. His feet had those same hiking shoes with the laces undone. He wore his Shao-Lin hat backwards. Around his waist was a toolbelt. He was holding a hammer at first then dropped it as I jumped up. His eyes had the same amused sparkle they usually had when he was watching me do something spastic.

My mouth dropped open and I could feel the tears drip down my face. Here was..... Abbott. My friend Abbott. But how could he be here? He died. He died months ago and now.....he was here?? How? I poked at his chest and felt the faded coarseness of his shirt and the muscles underneath give a little beneath my fingertip. I took my right hand and pushed into his chest. I fully expected my hand to pass right through him, but it didn't. I could feel his shirt and his heartbeat. I put both hands up on his shoulders, closed my eyes, and put my face against his shirt. Just like always, my head fit exactly at the very top of his belly. I used to joke that he was the perfect height because when I needed a really long hug I could use his belly as a pillow. I stood there, breathing that weird Abbott scent. It was part coffee, part soy milk, and something else--something uniquely him and I took a breath as deep as my lungs could go.

Wait a minute.

My eyes flew open and as hard as I could I shoved him away from me. He stumbled back a step and looked at me

"What the hell-"

"How can I see you??" I demanded. The tears were really flowing now.

"What do you--"

"You DIED Abbott!! How can I see you???" I was freaking out. If I could see him, after all, what did that mean for me?

"I what? No, you must have been dream-"

"NO! It was real! You died! I can see you! How can I see you? Did I die too? Is something going to happen??"

Abbott tried to hug me but I shoved him away.

"Why can I see you? Why? What's going on???"

"Erin," Abbott said, putting his hands on my shoulders. My heart thudded its way up into my throat. "I'm fine. I love you-" and that was as far as he got because my brain convinced itself that if I could see him, then something really bad must be happening to me or about to happen. I bolted. Slipping a little bit on the coffee that had pooled around my sneakers, I ran as fast as I could around the corner and collapsed against the wall. I could feel Abbott staring after me, and could feel his sad confusion at not being able to explain. The rest of my day I avoided him. I took detours around the hallway where he was fixing the water fountain.

All day other people tried to get me to talk to him. "Erin, he's fine. He's over there-" but I wouldn't have any of it. Finally I shut myself in an office and refused to let anybody in.

After some time alone I decided I was being ridiculous. I went back downstairs to find Abbott was just finishing the water fountain. He stood up and looked at me.

"It works" he said, demonstrating. I twisted my fingers together.

I looked right into his eyes--eyes which looked shockingly sad... The sadness confused me, I hadn't seen his eyes that sad before. I felt horrible. I had been a jerk to him all day. I looked at the floor, at his shoes and marvelled at how he never tied his laces. He just always walked around with the laces as loose as they would go so he wouldn't trip over them. His pants bagged around the tops of his shoes, just like always. The pant legs a little frayed at the edges. I looked back up at him, and found myself staring at the lamp on my bedside table.

What???

I blinked, not understanding.

In that split-second blink I saw Abbott standing there, staring at me from very far away and saw him say something my brain couldn't hear.

NO! (that may have been out loud) I closed my eyes and grabbed ahold of my dream as tightly as I could but the fringes of it slipped right through my fingers. As it trailed away I clawed as hard as I could, fighting my way back toward sleep, desperate to dive back into the real dream.

No dice. I could feel the sun on the back of my head the the stuffed animals crammed against my back, except for this little white monkey who lay under my face, hugging my chin. I could see every thread in the lampshade but I coudn't see Abbott anymore, so I did what any mature adult would do.

I cried. I curled into a little ball and pushed my face into the pillow. It didn't smell like Abbott. It's not fair! It's not fair! I didn't know! If I had known I wouldn't have been such a jerk! I'm sorry! Abbott I'm sorry! I didn't know! GODDAMMIT WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY TELL ME?? My brain raged against waking up further. I need more time! Please! Just another second! Just one more moment so I can tell him I'm sorry! Just let me tell him how much I miss him! Please!

And then I stopped. I had to get up. I had to get ready and leave for work. So I did.

I have struggled with this dream and ping-ponged with whether or not to blog about it. Finally, after two days of arguing with myself, the blog won. Writing is a weird catharsis, but isn't that how healing begins?