Friday, December 07, 2001

Another one of those restless nights - I keep waking up, roaming around the apartment, check e-mail, have something to drink from the fridge, wander back into the bed. Finally seemed to be in a good sleep, and had a dream. Fairly vague, of course, but some new bar, in a suburban bungalo-type house. It had a backroom in it's basement (surprised I dreamt about a bar with a backroom?) that you had to go outside to get to. And it was a fairly small one, with all the clutter of someone's overstuffed basement - broken chairs, strug-up Xmas lights that didn't quite work, etc. So, I have a beer upstairs, come outside, through a bit of snow to reach the basement/backroom, and am in there a bit, roaming around, and there are couplings and people standing, staring into space - but funny, nothing realy explicitly sexual, or at least I don't remember any body parts or actual sexual activity. So, as I am watching, my-most-recent Ex comes in, stands in the middle of the room, just sort of looks around for a few minutes, doesn't seem to see me, then leaves.

Just as in real life, in the dream my heart stops, and races, simultaneously. I can't decide what to do, so I let my legs do my thinking. They take me outside, where I quickly unlock my bike, hop on, and race in the direction I figure he must have gone, eventually getting to someone who turns out not to be him. Frustrated, I return to the bar (the upstairs BAR part of the bar) to have another beer, and feel foolish. I don't actually get a beer, cuz he's there - he's the bartender. Oddly, I don't see his face, I don't even look at him, I can just sense that it's him, and so I slowly move around the edges of the room, cat-like, deciding what to do. Soon I am outside, in the snow, thinking "he's the bartender at my new hangout! ferchrisskes, when will this end!!?" as I pace around in the snow, saddened, and frustrated.

A few minutes later, I am in the kitchen making coffee, sad, and thinking about the dream. I guess I should've known it was coming, I've spent most of the past 2 weeks in a pretty good mood, somehow putting aside my fears of going anywhere near an airport, and buying a ticket to see my family for Xmas, having a few days' worth of work to do, and other things that seem to have cheered me up. But, alas, my favorite Xmas was 3 years ago, with him. So, of course, how can I really get into this season without dipping into some of that emotion. We had gotten back together just after Thanksgiving, early December, and then decided to spend Xmas day together, him cooking a big meal, and all that. Meanwhile, I had gotten hit by a cab while riding my bike home from work - nothing too serious, just a fractured shoulder, arm in sling (yeah, wise guys, just the arm!). We even did shopping for the big meal together, me being completely useless, but having the time of my life, never having seen this side of him, this desire to make a big terrific meal. Some sort of old-fashioned stuffing for the turkey, tons of side dishes, etc. So, he carries 3 bags of stuff; and me just one bag on my one useful arm, on the subway. We wound up spending 3 nights in a row together, something we had never done, but it was easier for preparing for the big day together. He worked in retail, so worked Xmas eve, so I was home, under my lit-up Xmas tree ( I bought it the night before my accident, thank god!) and, with only one arm, I managed to make some great chocolate chip cookies (I don't even have a mixer, I just nestled the bowl in my lap, and did all the mixing, one-armed).

We met up early evening, me with my gifts, assigned last-minute kitchen stuff, and some tidbits of food, plus the cookies (well-hidden). See, we had developed this silly routine, where I would make cookies at home, and on a visit, I would hide a blue-lidded tupperware of them somewhere in his kitchen, and he would not find them til after I had left, sometimes, a day or two later. I'd get a phone call, maybe just an answering machine message, with him thanking me, usually with the sound of him eating a cookie while speaking. So, we had a nice Xmas Eve dinner, watched some t.v., had great sex, and fell asleep in each other's arms, me as high as a kite. During the night, I woke up, as I often do, did the bathroom thing, then went into my bag, and got out the cookies. I hadn't planned this, but it seemed silly enough, so....... I took out a small plate, put a couple cookies on it, and got a glass of milk. I drank most of the milk, and broke up one of the cookies to leave crumbs, leaving the dish and the glass on the dining room table, then went back to sleep. In the morning, he got up and out of bed before me, and I could hear him in the kitchen, getting the coffee ready. Suddenly, I hear him run into the bedroom, he grabs me, all smiley, and exclaims "Santa came! Santa came!"