| | Dear, I cannot believe it’s already April; what happened to the first three months? What was I so busy doing that I let a full 90 days slip by? Maybe it’s a symptom of growing old, but it really seems like my days contain less life than I’d like. Once in a while, a day will come along where I get to do so much, like a lovingly planned date, that it feels like a lifetime of joy. Then I think I’ve made up for some of the days when I’ve slept in and reveled in my dreams. Maybe that’s why I dream so much. A long time ago, I learned what it was to not want to get up. I’d wake up early in the morning and evaluate the day ahead. Sometimes it was the monotony of school, sometimes it was a weekend of grocery shopping and church, but often it simply felt ordinary and predictable. I’d then weigh the forthcoming day against my dreams and try to figure out in which I’d have more fun. I hardly ever stay asleep because of inertia, you see, I sleep because in my dreams I am sometimes happier. The problem with dreams is that they dissolve much faster than life. In fact, that’s how I distinguish between the two. My memories in life are shared and concrete. They’re like gems that I polish with attention. The more I cherish them, savor them, labor over their details, the more they shine and glow. But my dreams are less dependable. I alone hold them dear and that can become quite a dreadful burden. I cannot turn to you and remark, “remember that time when our elephant refused to cross the brook and we had to make shoes for him from leaves?” Of course you would not remember. Even though I enjoyed your company in my dream, loved you and shared the joy of the moment with you, you were not really there. “How did it happen again?” you’d ask, just to play along. And I’d have to retell the whole story, but imperfectly because it would have no corroborator. I also sometimes sleep because my eyes are heavy, they burn with fatigue and beg me to make them see no more. Since fixing them, I’ve needed to sleep less, and I’ve become happier seeing more in my life. I know that I can make my dreams elaborate and exciting, but I’ve realized that even an ordinary day can create memory gems that will glow like tigers eyes for as long as I love them. So I’d like to stay awake more, plan more, exert myself more during my waking hours. I’ve been having less nightmares lately. I’ve been less anxious. They went away since I’ve decided that I am superbly blessed and happy. I am no longer afraid. Before that one night, when I was falling and then developed a bouncing ability (instead of the flying ability I was hoping for), I never let myself sleep through the end. They say that if you hit the bottom in your sleep, you’d die for real. Even though I can control my dreams, I didn’t want to risk it. But that night, I knew I was going to be fine, I was far from dying. I willed flight, but ended up bouncing in long bounds, which was great fun. That’s one memory I still love, even though it’s a dream. That’s because I wrote it to you in an email, so now you share a bit of it with me. This is “wordy,” as you’d say. But it makes me happy to tell you this, because even if you know it about me, it makes me happy to share it with you. I like to sleep close to you because I hope that we’d one night dream the same dream and not have to spend our sleeping hours apart. Holding each other close sometimes gives both of us dead-asleep limbs (that prickle like a million needles when they wake up). But if only we can share our dreams and create in them whatever we wish – were we to become expert lucid dreamers - we’d have twice the lifetime to love each other. In the waking half, we’d struggle and build a great life, while in the sleeping half we’d enjoy each other in whatever freedom and luxury we’d want, solving problems and inventing limitless adventures. Just like I believe that sooner of later, two people in love will intertwine in each other’s language, I know love can lead them into shared dreams. It only takes practice. I sometimes will napkins to twitch, hair to grow, names and addresses to resurrect (i.e. 314-230-9026, the phone number of my St. Louis home 13 years ago). There’s enough literature and records of thoughts moving reality that I believe if I only focus, think hard enough, the impossible is inevitable. That’s how I feel about love and shared dreams. If only I am happy enough, strong enough, kind, generous, patient enough…it is wonderful anticipation. Yours Truly, Lili |
