Four Dreams I Had Last Night

1. I invented a plug for a software package that, as far as I know anyway, only exists in TV crime land. Then I wrote a class to teach it at my college, which, as far as I know, does not exist in TV crime land.

2. My class was interrupted by 300 kindergarteners who claimed to need every seat in the auditorium (it was a big class) in order to put on their snow suits. My class stuck around to help. It took 20 minutes to get every kid suited up.

3. A subterranean floor was discovered in a trap door under the carpet in the student lounge and several offices and classrooms were moved there so that the Student Affairs office could be turned into a yoga studio.

4. a manuel of all college rules and practices was written and distributed to every office with instructions to place it on every desk. However, the book was electrified and could not be touched. If you wanted to refer to it, you had to fill out a requisition and turn it in to the registrar. If approved, someone would come by and unplug the book.

Apparently, I have a very active nocturnal life.

 

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M. carries the phone up high, as if we are in a flood zone, and she delivers it with something that looks like relish.

I take the call, of couse. It is H.

I'm sorry I left so quickly, Lily. I miss you. You know. Every day.

I don't say anything right away.

I love you, Lily. No matter what.

I think about all the no matters what and the whathaveyous and I decide that I am very very lucky.

*

I love you too, H.

 

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I am not feeling reasonable, at the moment.

I am not feeling secure, warm and fuzzy, or otherwise deep and meaningful.

Instead, I am out of sorts, slightly cranky, and not a little homesick.

I want cardamom ice cream, a good meal (without auto audio, I assure you), and just a little bit of revenge.

(Ok. Maybe not. I am not so dedicated with the revenge.)

*

G comes over on his second pass and we are awkward for all of 26 seconds before he asks me why I am not back home permanantly.

I capitulate, or maybe I hesitate. In any case, I make excuses and he rolls his eyes and gestures dismissively.

What you don't get...what you have never gotten...is that it was you that made him interesting.

This is not true, objectively.

Not even a little.

But when G says it, I remember that there are at least three sides to every story.

*

We talk for almost an hour.

He tells me that all my place are belong to us.

*

I groan loadly and punch him in the arm.

Some things never change.

 

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Every important thing to know I learned from Jack Bauer.

1. Travel light. You can always trade up, weapon wise, when you kill one of the henchmen with a machete.

2. Make your goodbyes quick and emotionless. Chances are your compadre will be blown up in the next few hours.

3. There are sinister forces in the government. It is probably a good idea to let a 202 number go to voicemail.

4. If you must resort to hand to hand combat, punch your attacker in the kidneys.

5. Torture is more common than you'd think.

6. Always back up your secret data codes because someone will always jam your email/steal your thumbdrive/killfile your desktop/blow up the server room.

7. When someone asks you to destroy financial records, consider leaving town. Right away. Don't even go home. If you go home, someone will probably be waiting to electrocute you.

8. There is always a kill swtich on an explosive device.

9. Wear comfortable shoes. You never know when you may need to run.

10. 24 hours is a really long time.

 

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Well, do you want to go?

He tacks this onto the end of a monologue so lengthy I had long ago autopiloted my listening.

Where?

To the opening. And, you know, the after party.

Like a date?

He shrugs and then nods, reluctantly.

Yeah, sort of. Like a date.

Nope.

No, you don't want to go? Or no, you don't want to go on a date?

I don't date.

He gives me the furrowed brow.

Ok...so let's just go like usual.

Nope.

Why?

Because you brought up the date word and you can't unring that bell.

Lily, it isn't like you and I haven't ever...

That's not dating.

It isn't?

Nope. It isn't. Dating involves...paraphernalia.

Paraphernalia?

Yeah. Paraphernalia. You know. Like shoes and stuff.

He shakes his head slowly and laughs at me.

You are one odd birdlet, Lilian.

 

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What can I say? You bring out the fuck you in me.

You guessed it.

A Weeds marathon.

It was a busy weekend. Class yesterday and a make up class today.

Twelve hours of teaching.

I don't like the idea of listening to myself that much. I can't imagine how horrible it must be to have to listen to me that much.

It's over now. All quiet on the eastern front.

Tonight is all about the tv and the vegetable stew.

 

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Where are you?

I think on this.

Home.

What are you doing?

I think some more.

Sleeping.

Are you ok?

I think about thinking but then change my mind.

The line is quiet for a long time.

If you want, I can bring some Chinese food.

I want to say no.

Instead, I remind you that I don't like scallions in the wonton soup.

 

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There is a knock at the door at 6am.

I know who it is and I am kind of surprised. I am not usually awake at this hour. But almost every time I am, he shows up.

He brings bagels this time. And gin.

I open the door, pour the last cup of coffee, and return to my perch on top of the armchair. It isn't high enough, so I climb onto the table to get a better look. The arrangement, for lack of a better word, covers most of the living room floor.

Puppy X is not happy about it.

After he puts up more coffee, he wanders in, takes a look, and sits down. He thinks I want to talk.

How are you?

I ignore him.

He probably won't read it.

I decide to reply, but not to look up. I don't want to encourage conversation.

I think that would probably be a good idea.

Then why did you write it? If you think he won't read it.

I wrote it because I cared about her, once. Not in the way anyone expected, but I did.

I move some pieces around.

What if he gets mad?

I shrug.

What if he writes something back?

I block him.

You do?

I nod.

I don't want to talk with him.

Why did you bother? Why did you even bother to look?

I blame the painkillers.

You aren't listening.

I am quiet for a minute.

You're right. I am not listening. Frankly, I think that's a sign of growth.

Lucky for both of us, he shuts up.

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