~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 9

Confused Connection

Last night I was driving towards a town about 4000 miles away, in a northbound direction. Halfway there I wanted to take a break, to stretch my legs and have some coffee, so I stopped at a picnic area next to the road. I don't drive in real life, but in the dream it was as if driving a car was part of my everyday activities, and it felt good to be in control that way. I got out of my car and as I strode towards one of the picnic tables I glanced around and I thought this could've been a very tranquil and relaxing place, with the lawn and the trees and the cosy wooden tables, if it hadn't been located so close to the heavy traffic route. I didn't think much about it though, because after all this was a highway picnic area so my thoughts were just absentminded reflections passing unconscientiously through my mind. I did, however, put some attention to the big building on the other side of the road.
          It stroke me as bit odd they'd put up such a big building here, in the middle of nowhere. I wondered about it, and I gazed at it again. It was an eccentric building all together, quite impressive, but its size and architecture didn't fit in here, both because of its solitude in the deep-shadowed denseness of the vast forest surrounding it, and also because of its oriental ornamentations. My attention was focused on the building when suddenly in the corner of my eye I caught a man standing next to the road, across from me. I don't know why, but the second I saw him I halted because I knew he would cross the road and come to me. And so he did. When he stood before me he just looked into my eyes, not saying anything. Neither did I. We simply looked at one another, and then we kissed. I had no idea whom he was; I'd never seen him before, but in the dream it felt perfectly natural, and soothing somehow, to meet with him like that.
          Still without saying anything he took me by the hand and led me to the big building across the road, the side he'd come from. As we walked towards it I understood that the building was a hotel- and restaurant-complex. Without any hesitations I let him take me there: I let him take my hand, I let him lead me to it. As if there weren't any other options present in this moment than to follow him. Everything had turned perfectly calm and still. I didn't even think about what I was doing, because, in the dream, there wasn't anything to think about. We made love in one of the hotel rooms. It was an act of passion, of letting loose a deep felt yearning I didn't even know I had. Yes, it was as if the unification of our bodies made our souls merge. It felt so natural, so totally and completely natural I've never experienced anything even remotely like it before, or since.
          Afterwards we went down to the restaurant on the bottom floor. When we had just entered a couple I've never seen before came up to us and made conversation in a manner suggesting that we were a couple too. It was as if, being in a place like that, it was normal and customary for a couple to start talking to another couple even if they'd never met before; like had the being-on-the-road-situation an innate special set of norms. The man I was with answered and behaved as if this was the case, he followed the same behavioural pattern, and in this, he acted as if we really were a couple. I didn't know how to respond. The whole situation made me feel a bit uncomfortable. But, the four of us sat down, we ordered some food and dined together. During the dinner the other couple talked a lot about how they were trying to get pregnant, in a way indicating I and the man I was with knew precisely what they were talking about, as if we also had the same intention.
          I still didn't know how to respond, it felt strange not letting them understand that we'd just met, but it also felt strange to start telling them about us – I had no real reason to do so; I didn't know them, I knew it was highly unlikely that I was ever going to meet with them again, and this was just a brief social encounter where we all were expected to follow the special set of social rules that came with the situation. That is, to interact in a socially correct manner which here meant to talk about couples stuff, to pretend to share a truly personal experience by following the norms of the superficial behaviour which tells the others we all know how to play this game: They pretended to be truly personal without saying anything about their real feelings, and we pretended to be truly interested without saying anything about what we really thought and felt.
          After dinner the other couple left. When on our own, the man I was with continued talking to me as if we really were a couple. I still didn't know how to respond to that. One part of me liked the idea of defining us as a couple this easy way, by just acting as if we were. Another part of me resisted. I handled my ambivalent feelings by answering him according to the expectations I knew was appropriate for a person who knows how to behave well and socially correct, a behaviour which, in my opinion, was avoidant and rather distant. But he didn't even seem to notice that. After a while he had to go to the men's room. Once by myself I thought: "What am I doing? I can't stay here, I have to move on", suddenly remembering that I was on my way to that town still some 2000 miles away.
          So I left, not waiting for him to come back, not leaving any note of why I had left or where I was going. At first, that felt good, like was I doing the right thing. Because I also suddenly remembered that in the town I was headed for, the man I lived with and was expected to spend the rest of my life with, was waiting for me. In the dream we were still together, but in reality I separated from him some years ago. When I was back in my car I called him and said that I'd been delayed, but that I was getting there in a few hours. I didn't like to lie to him this way, but I felt very confused about the whole situation and didn't know what else to say.
          A short while later, I hadn't driven more than a couple of miles, I began thinking that maybe I had made a big mistake leaving the man I'd met at the picnic area like I did. Maybe I had made a terrible, huge mistake just by leaving him. I had never felt such a strong and immediate connection to anyone before, never been so light-heartedly out of my thoughts and feeling so perfect about it, never felt anything so fully and totally as I did when I was with him. All about our meeting came so spontaneously to me, so easily and genuinely. And so overwhelmingly strong. I tried to get those thoughts out of my mind, I tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing now by continuing the trip I had set out to do.
          I tried not to think about him at all, because when my thoughts touched the memory of him I began thinking that maybe, if I'd stayed, we could've been something truly amazing together. It was as if we shared a bond already there before we met. But I left. I left without any possibility for me to get in contact with him, or him to get in contact with me, ever again. I left, and now maybe I would live to regret my decision for the rest of my life. I didn't even know his name.
          So I tried, I tried really, really hard, to shut down those thoughts, to get him out of my system. I thought to myself: "I have to move on, I have to move on, I have to move on", you know, like a mantra. But I just couldn't. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him, I couldn't get him off my mind. Meeting with him had produced the most powerful yearning inside of me, like had he kindled a love deep, deep within. A love I knew from before, but so far back I couldn't recollect from where and when. And yet, by the mildest touch he had called back to life my every harmonious chord, as if I was in truth a lyre able to compose the most beautiful, powerful songs of existence. Tenderly striking my long forgotten strings – by the gentlest tinge of his fingertips – he had awakened a vague, indefinable remembrance.
          And there I awoke, feeling overwhelmingly distressed and confused. A pale, barely visible dawn had managed to let two tiny rays of light enter my bedroom. I glanced at the clock: 5.47 am.