Some cool Wood Folding Chairs images:
tonight we made shadows

Image by maureen_sill
i have had three or four nights in the past three months where i have not had a dream about my old love, usually ones where she likes me again, ones where we are still very much in love, still singing i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else but you to one another, before i started getting offers from one beautiful and sweet person and a slew of strange women/men for dates to places i didn’t really care about going to and she got involved with this guy at her school who seems nice enough. last night i had a dream that i went to her college campus and knocked on her dorm room door with my guitar in my other hand and she answered it and said, what are you doing here. i said, i want to play you some songs i wrote, i wrote them all for you, honey, if anyone should get to hear them it should be you and i’ve played them in front of strangers, i played for a roomful of strangers last night in downtown lakewood and they clapped and enjoyed it but i’ve never even played them for the person i wrote them for. she shrugs her shoulders and says, you can’t come in and closes the door. i sit on the hard, cool tile outside her room and just start playing them in their sweetly unconditional nature, after three or four of them she comes outside of her room and sits across from me with her arms folded, like she doesn’t want to be listening but at the same time she knows that i mean it, that i really mean it. what does it mean to be the kind of person who means it? what does it mean to be the kind of person who means it when they make something, when they sing something, when they build something? what does it mean to be the kind of person who makes things instead of talking about the things that other people make? it does not make them better, it just means that they mean it more. it is not better, it is not all that different, they just feel things differently. she listens, after two more her arms are unfolded, she scoots over next to me, lets our knees touch slightly. she smiles and looks at me like i’m special, but eventually she starts crying softly. i don’t stop playing. she grabs my hand, which is on the neck of the guitar forming the simplest of chords, and holds it there against the wood and strings, stopping the song, and whispers, please stop, please stop, i don’t want to love you again. i don’t want to and you’re making it harder. instead of asking her why she doesn’t want to, which is all i really want to ask in the whole world in the dream, i apologize, and somehow it is snowing in the lounge full of rugs and chairs near her room, so i go in there and fall into a foot of snow face first but it is not cold, it is just soft and white. she comes in after me and asks me to leave, and i say that i will and i’m sorry but i just need a minute because i have realized in my dream that it’s not that she can’t, it’s that she just doesn’t want to, she just doesn’t want me.. i stand up and look at her, having no dignity left in my body at this point, . she kisses me really hard on the mouth, like she meant it or something, and i leave. in my dream it is the last time i ever see her. what does it mean to be the kind of person that means it?