I need some kind of miracle. I'm not even choosy. Maybe I am choosy.
(The above written yesterday.)
I had a dream about David last night. There were other dreams which have gently faded, but I liked them. The one about David was the second of three.. I think, it seems like he came walking toward me down a dry streambed--I mean really dry, dusty--and was coming from uphill. I guess he had decided to abandon this idea or experiment or decision of moving apart from one another. There was one long soft slow kiss, and then we moved off together into the next dream, which I can't quite remember. I think I remember us standing in a large room and talking to someone who was chained, maybe, or somehow imprisoned, but that's all I can grasp now. I should have written it down earlier. They were good dreams.
Speaking of dreams, I have been almost obsessed over the past few days with one from my childhood that I think I mentioned the other day. I don't know how old I was, but not very. Maybe six? I had my own room, the room I live in now, and I think I had the bunk bed--so maybe more like eight or nine. I woke up on the bottom bunk, so it must have been before I shared a room with Chloe. I remember bits of two related dreams that night: In the first, the back yard of this house was a pastel-colored jungle filled with soft greens and huge flowers. The space under the back porch was larger than in reality, and there were two tigers underneath it. I don't remember whether I was initially afraid of them or not, but one came forward and spoke to me--possibly they both spoke--and gave me a tiger's eye stone. Maybe the one behind suggested the gift? I'm not sure. I almost desperately wish I could remember what they said, or what it said, but I don't have a clue.
In the next dream I was walking down the left side of my own street, below my house, nearing the corner. Maybe ten feet before the corner I bent down and picked up a tiger's eye stone, the same one, and that's the last I remember before waking up. When I woke, the stone was in my hand. It is in my hand now. I didn't recognize it and took it to my parents asking whether they had given it to me, but neither of them recognized it either. I have no idea where it came from or how it ended up in my hand, and I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but now my curiosity has been fully reawakened. At this point, I'm not sure what to do with it. I've just been making a mental list of the strange, inexplicable things that happened to me as a child, not that there are a great many, and quietly wondering whether I'm being ridiculous.