It's been a very, very long time since I've had a dream like that - so vivid, and filled with such longing. It was so small, so simple. Half-dozing on the couch with my head on G.'s leg while he read a book. Nothing more, and nothing less in the world existed. It was somehow illicit and wonderful and I woke with such a feeling of want I still haven't been able to shake it. It has left me feeling sad and much more lonely than usual.
It is after dreams like this that I feel so very in touch with R.E.M. and his story. Dreams like this make me the perfect, the only person to write that book. It is the reason I am putting Sam on the back-burner for the moment - this is now the story I have to tell. Will I be grateful, in the end, for the emotional pain these dreams often put me through? If it leads where I hope it will? Can longing like that be forgiven? Would I choose a different end than my professor?
Probably not.
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