chimera

I had a dream about you last night.
I was walking down the street. Not just a street. The street that is always in my dreams. It's on the fringe of a downtown somewhere. A hilly town. Brick buildings, old streets, flowers. Wood-trimmed windows painted black, hunter green, navy blue. Chipped gold lettering to display the business' business. Coffee shops, bakeries, vintage clothing, boutiques; hipster spots adorn the streets. Sometimes the shops are all connected through back doorways, yellow hallways, rickety stair cases, tunnels and alleys...but it's dream-land...so that changes. ((I wonder if this town actually exists?))
I was on that street - my street. It was overcast. There were people all around; my street is always busy. Beautiful people. People wearing sweaters and funky hats with long hair and beards...people wearing corduroys and cotton skirts and dancing to the music in their head. The glitterati arethere, too. And older, wiser folk. Small kids. They dance to the street musicians, they laugh, they mingle.
I duck in and out of the shops. I want to see a concert at a coffee bar. But something won't let me stay. I have to get out of there. I walk hastily down the street, out of my colorful neighborhood toward taller gray buildings. The overcast sky is getting darker and darker. But while I'm yet on my street's final corner, I glance across the street.
Across the wide, wide street.
There is the final colorful shop. There are you. Sitting outside. You sit at a black, wrought-iron table. You are holding a large, thin book. Like a sketch book. You've been watching me. I look your way, You cover your face with the book. Familiar disappointment fills me. Familiar pain and confusion. I keep walking. You remain across the street at the table. I look over again. I don't know why. You twist your body away from me, in towards the table. You bend your arm and cover your face.
Why?
Simultaneously the rain starts to patter down and a gentleman approaches you.
The rain forces me to turn around and jog towards the safety of My Street.
The gentleman forces you to walk in the same direction as me.
I enter the coffee bar with the concert that I had previously been in. I come in through the back. You and the man are coming in through the front. He indicates a round, oak table near the front. You sit. He leaves.
I can't take it anymore. I approach you. I sit down, tears have already filled my eyes.
You avoid eye contact. I reach my hand over and lay it on your arm, compelling you to look at me.
I know we had a discussion. I know you said why. But like too many dreams, those details evade me. Or perhaps were skipped over like a scratched DVD. You miss the specifics, but the plot flows on.
Scene change; instant. Dreams will do that. We're in a house. There are a few people who live here. It's a typical 20-something home. Almost-bare walls, mismatched furniture. We're in the basement. We're laughing. We've made peace. An old classmate from UNI walks by the door of the room we are in. He shakes his head, smiles. "Ooooh, you two"... he seems to say.
We're the proverbial happy couple. Minus the relationship. We tickle each other, and tease (which seems far-fetched even to my dreaming conscience.) We walk upstairs hand-in-hand. (Which seems right even now.)
We're in the kitchen, around the island. (This is always where key moments happen in relationship dreams for me.)
We both realize we're behaving as if we were "together." You can't accept that.
You still love her.
Your face loses all animation and color. It lengthens, your eyes lose their sparkle.
My heart weighs too much now, and all fades to black.