a high school friend emailed to tell me that i have been visiting his dreams often of late. and this dredges up the muck that was my obsession with him all those years ago. the uncannily ironic and lurid humor that is fate. i would have, 13 years ago, moved heaven, earth and all universal bodies to hear him tell me that he dreamed of me. but years, events, and marriages create tiny islands out of the mightiest mountain peaks. i read this email with an acute sense of pain and confusion. pain for the reawakened memories; confusion that he would find it appropriate to tell me that he had been dreaming of me.

i had been blessed, our Senior year, with the gift of opportunity. i had chosen him as the recipient of a class assignment. i had to write a poem to and about him. and...read it out loud to the class. shy, insecure, and in raptures, i labored over this poem for weeks. just like in the movies, it would be the moment of discovery. my words - stumbling and timid and affected when spoken, but ringing, fluid and sincere on paper - would spellbind him to me. he would recognize his love for me at that moment.

only...

my fluttering heart choked my spell my tongue blustered my self-possession crumbled and rattled to the floor and i burst into unaccountable tears groped blindly for my desk and wept bitterly for my exposed vulnerability and mangled hopes. the classroom awkwardly echoed shifting feet and glances of sympathy

for him.

it only makes sense that 13 years later, my winged prayers would finally find their mark and stir up dreams now asynchronous and bitter. ineffectual.

yet, i must consider that out of the circles upon circles of friends, he would still remember me, want to be my friend. even subconsciously.

friendship baffles me.