AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
Woke up before my morning alarm ... that is set for 0630 hrs., to get my run in. But I am wide awake at 5 a.m. So I sit up, because I have been dreaming, and it hasn't quite vaporized from my mind.
Watching Sportscenter, I make it come away from the light and back into the darkness where I can see it more fully. The anchors are talking about the basketball and hockey playoffs. I wonder if the Capitals have won (they did), but other than that, I am trying to focus on my dream.
... where I am sitting at the living room table, with someone's Mother sitting to my right. I am at the end, and across from her is her daughter, about 26 years old. Mom has some papers and a fancy dan ink pen. Someone is supposedly be ready to sign something ... and it is supposed to be me.
Mom is explaining how while their darling daughter (the Mr. is at work and it is 3 p.m. . Maybe he will be home soon, this wasn't in their plan, but hey, they are rolling with it) shouldn't be getting married. She talks about baby girl getting her feet on the ground, and building towards a future that she has been working on since jr. high. This is really the first relationship she has been involved in, and while the things like our age difference, my back ground, gave them pause, she and her husband did not think that getting in the way would make things better.
"We honestly thought that Precious would grow tired of you. After all, you don't dance (and he don't love no body ... he just wants your body girl ... he's just a gigolo), and we didn't think she would even be considering marriage ..."
Marriage?? Someone is married and I am again part of the equation?? My mind's eye is looking around the room ... Skye, KT and Lexxie aren't in the room, so she must be talking to me. But who is it that I am considering marrying?
Mom continues. "... so we went to our attorney and had the annulement drew up. All you have to do now is sign these papers. Dad (she didn't call him that, but if I had names, then I would know who it is I will be sitting down having this conversation with) will be here shortly and we can go together to the lawyer's office ..."
My mind slips again, and I am back to the FIRST time something like this happened, where I was facing down Skye's Granddad on her Mum's side. My attention shifts ... thought the Capitals were out played in the first period, they would beat the Rangers on a goal by Sergi Federov ... still have good memories of him playing for the Wings. The Celtics and the Bulls are having a good series, but in hockey, each and every round is epic. The Caps just got out of the first round in a life and death struggle. I have always thought the Celtics were a tad overrated, but like most good Celtic teams since Bird, they always find a way to win, especially when they shouldn't.
... so Dad is here, and he is giving us the drill, his well rehearsed and practiced speech. He can't help but be a little condescending. This isn't the 'audience' he thought he'd have, if he had ever considered talking to some cat Precious brought home to gain approval. She has a hurt look creasing her face, a deep and somewhat bitter disappointment. Why bitter? My mind races. When Daddy dearest finishes, we are all piling into cars, the ladies into a Lexus and the men in a C-class Mercedes. So someone has money, and that means someone has 'interests' to protect.
I am searching my heart. Why am I here? What would make me want to put myself in this position again? I was so callow when I spoke to Skye's Granddad about marrying his daughter, but I spoke as strong as I could. We were in love, and we were both stupid. Most young kids are, when they talk about getting married, but I thought then as I was thinking in my dream, if there is more love than there is stupidity, it can work.
So I look at Precious. Her eyes glisten, waiting to be carried into the Lexus before they spring a leak and she starts bawling. She wants this, and though I don't know why, I am thinking that if she wants this that badly, then maybe I owe it to her. After all, someone that wants you is all you can really ask for.
Is she going to be willing to remind me of the reason I went to the kitchen? Will she want to sit down when we are walking the Galleria Mall in search of her perfect set of earrings? Will she let me 'get all tangential' and connect the dots from one sphere of life to another, and listen raptly to me as I do it, participating in the conversation?
There is talk of money for someone to start something (I guess that would meant for me, to get out of their daughter's life, and continue on with my organic mess elsewhere). I look at Precious, eyes welling and I can see something that I don't remember seeing when I looked into someone's eyes in a similiar situation. I can feel something, something real and authentic. This girl loves someone, and I'M that someone.
As Daddy dearest finishes, a few years older than me (but only a few ... I am still 43 years old!!), I tell him that he must really love his daughter, to be willing to buy someone away from her. I ain't mad at you, in fact I completely understand.
"But," I add, "I didn't come to Nebraska to run some game on anyone. This isn't a story where you will be talking with that cat on NBC Dateline, talking about how some slickster from Detroit, settled in town and preyed upon your daughter. Nope, I came here to find a life, and I happen to believe I have found it with your daughter."
"She isn't my first choice. I don't hang around elementary schools, looking for children. I have no idea what my daughters is going to think, having a step mom that is in their classes with them at University. But I feel the love that your daughter has for me is geniue. She isn't a rebel (but I'm a rebel, so I RE -bel!!), and I wouldn't be around her if she was. We both want love in our lives, and that is why we are together, in spite of everything."
I reach across the table and pick up Precious' hand. "We love one another, and we fill each other's heart." With my free hand, I pick up the annulement papers. "I think I will hang on to these. Don't know, but they may come in handy some day. Seen enough soap operas to know that stuff like this always comes back for some reason."
Rising from the table in unison, Precious and I lock eyes, as tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Her lips are trembling as she is trying to smile. She must think that I said the right things, and she obviously believes that we did the right thing.
I am so like, "gee, I hope so!!" We walk out of the house, hands tightly clasped. We are still together, passing our first test. And we are still in love.
Man, that was the weirdest dream to be having. I don't often have dreams like this, ones that stay in my head, but this one did. I thought that if I wrote it down, it would have evaporated before I got it out.
I am thinking that I may not have learned anything ... or maybe I have learned enough to make it work, because this dream felt like something I have done before. ALL of this, is feels like something I have done before. There are some differences, but still... Essentially, some strange, free asscoiative thoughts have bonded together to form a construct in my mind. There is little rationality to any of this, save the rational sense that it makes in my head.
Shouldn't I be seeing flying monkeys as well? Purple dragons and pink mushrooms? Even I ask myself if I am this 'blue sky, filled with white puffy clouds'. Then I remember coming from the R.O.K, for some TDY in San Fransisco, and driving somewhere ... where ever it was, the sky with the ocean looked THIS BIG. Man, as mushy and sentimental as I can be, I didn't take pictures or pick up trinkets. Wish I had, wish I had. Who is going to take me to Monte Carlo so they can beat on me for three weeks, and pay me for the privliege again??
I have been thinking about the idea of going to Nebraska. Like Thunderbirds, the plan is still a go. There are bugs to be worked out. But I am going to leave Detroit, one way or another.
Oh, and to say I 'got up early' ... when DON'T I do that!!
NEXT: I TOLD YOUR FRIENDS YOU WERE FROM GARY ...