Okay, so I nearly didn't post this...

but I had a dream last night (or this morning... ever notice how there is no "time" in dreams?). One of a recurring series about letting go. Vestiges. Remnants of feeling. Clearly, this is how I leave things behind. In increments. The subversive life of my dreams processes the truth of "no more" for me.

In this dream, anyway, he (my unrequited love of years) and I were in a car together. On our way to his house where a party of people waited, his wife included, and he told me what he used to love about me. And he mimicked some gesture that I apparently had (though it is not an actual gesture of mine from the waking world) that was especially meaningful to him. And then a revelation. He said "if I had been black, I would have been able to be faithful to you" (this came, I'm sure, from a background concern of mine that race maybe kept him from considering me as a worthwhile partner).

At the end of the dream (I was leaving his party) he asked me if I would smoke with him [one last time]. My mother/best friend amalgam suddenly appeared and told me not to do it. But I said "I am going to smoke with him. I just am." But the cigarettes were dessert cigarettes and when he dropped them on the floor they broke...