DREAM: I’m meandering down the street at night. I remember leaving my cell phone somewhere up ahead. Not sure of the exact spot…but I lift my right arm up in the sky, look away, and manifest the cell phone into my hand. I mutter thanks to God cause it’s understood that he was keeping it for me. Across the street now, in the foyer of a café or store. Talking it up with Darren, James, and some pretty dark skinned girl that’s favorably skinny. There’s unspoken competition between the guys. In the end the girl and I are holding each other affectionately in front of everyone. We venture into a closet nearby to get some privacy so we can exchange more physical affection. We shut the door behind us. There’re other doors in this little space. I try to open some of them…but most are locked. The back two happen to open up invitingly into a church sanctuary of some kind—people congregating—a cult, not a Christian cult, but of another breed. We don’t go in. One of the doors I can’t shut. It’s as if another force behind it is pushing against it, not persons. It’s a struggle. Every time I get it shut it opens up again. Eventually, we let it be. The door flings open and both of us have a fear that we just freed a ghostly controlling spirit out in the open. We run back out to the foyer. It’s understood that all the previous characters have been replaced with clones or they’re just mind-controlled by the spirit we let escape. I’m cautious to interact with them because I know they have hidden agendas to either destroy me or manipulate me into doing things I don’t want to do…
Getting out of bed at 11:44 a.m.
All day shift at China Wok.
Throat. Sick. Nose. Runny.
Instant Oatmeal. Hot Blackcurrant Tea.
Pretty girls that don’t tip aren’t that pretty.
Apple. Orange Juice. Throat Drops.
Busy afternoon…
Muscadine Grapes. Hot and Sour Soup.
Nose running like Niagara.
Immune Defense.
Steady evening.
A rap song is playing on the stereo behind the customer’s door…“Are my deliveries invading your vicinities?”
I need nose plugs.
Off work.
Egg Sandwich with Tomato and Mayonnaise. Apple Fritter Bread. Brown Rice Green Tea.
Head hurts. Body aches. Ibuprofen.
I told Margot we could discuss the sex proposition tonight. She comes bearing a bag full of cold remedies like soup, vitamin c, and tea.
Me: “You’re too good to me.”
…
Me: “Yeah today I was just… dragging through it.”
…
I start the discussion by laying out all consequences…
Me: “My only problem with this whole thing is…how beneficial is it to me, to you, and to each other? What’s going to happen two months from now? Are we going to be having the same exclusive [sexual] relationship?”
…
Me: “It’s a way to hold on. It’s like keeping the door open for each other even though it’s just sexual. You know it’s not just sexual. There’s going to be emotional ties.”
Her: “Yeah it’s still a tie to you, which makes me feel safer...”
Me: “But this will keep us too close than we’re allowed to be. I don’t think it’s fair that we can have our cake and eat it too.”
…
Me: “I want to allow you some freedom, too.”
…
Me: “Aren’t you using me in a way…as a safety net until you have an option so that you don’t have to feel the pangs of being alone? You would be using this to keep me in…to stay connected.”
Her: “Having sex with you is the one of the only ways I feel like I matter to you.”
Me: “It’s the ultimate way.”
…
Me: “I don’t want to do the same relationship we had before we were dating…It’s too risky.”
…
The conversation continues and every now and then there’s a long pause after she spouts out something dramatic…but it’s pretty clear what my opinion is.
Me: “We can’t just do what we want to do all the time…I want to make the right decision here.”
…
At some point, in retort, I say, “But I’m your ex-boyfriend!”
She doesn’t respond well to that terminology, “Don’t say that.”
And then she cries.
…
Me: “I’m sorry”
…
In the end, we don’t have sex…
Popcorn. Gypsy Cold Care Tea. More Apple Fritter Bread.
Watching The Local [2008].
Sleep 4:30 a.m.
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