April 6, 2009

• The rain is bittersweet, pt2

  I dreamed of you again last night.
  
  You asked me if I was happy, which surprised me. “Of course,” I responded. “My life is a good one, I do the things I want and rarely want for anything. When I do want something, I work for it and basically always get what I want. In other words,” here I smiled at you, “I’ve picked up where you left off in spoiling me.”
  
  You didn’t smile back, just a small frown that left me worried I’d gone too far in stating what was obvious to everyone when I was growing up; you’d doted on me, even favored me and definitely spoiled me. But instead of mentioning that, you said, “I worry that you are spending too much time working to achieve my dreams for you, and not enough on achieving your own dreams for you.”
  
  I consider this for a moment. It’s true that my dreams have never included attaining a degree, nor going to graduate school, but these don’t seem like unworthwhile goals. They put a purpose to my life, where one previously floated out of reach (or one that I would deem worthy enough to share with people without feeling an ounce of shame). To be honest, I’ve always planned on quitting at this point, and my closest friends – people for whom I feel the utmost respect, people who are incredibly intelligent, talented, and seriously have it all together (or project the facade they do, anyway, ha) – asked me what I would do after I quit. “I dunno,” I would shrug. “Write, I guess. Get married. Have kids. You know.”
  
  The more I think about this, school was always the obvious choice. I almost wish I’d realized that sooner, started this crazy trek towards self-betterment involving 18 hour days, 2 hour commutes, all of this craziness sooner, because then I’d be that much closer to done. I’d be that much closer to saying “Yeah, that period of time in my life really sucked, but it’s over.” But I didn’t, and here I am, just over a month away from finishing this hellish semester of too-long commutes, not enough time for myself, my dog, my friends, my relationship, my family. I am clinging on to the last shred of sanity I can claim to own, and even that is slowly slipping away.
  
  With that shred… I almost don’t even want to go to Vegas this weekend. Don’t want to go to Vegas?! Vegas is one of my favorite domestic cities! I didn’t go last year, which is a horrible tragedy for me, and yet here I am, almost not looking forward to it.
  
  You look on at me while I go over all of this in my mind, and you begin to look amused. I stare defiantly at you, and declare, “School is the answer. I’m not going to school for you anymore. It’s for me. It’s for MY future, of which you are sadly no longer a living part. There isn’t any other option, it just is the next step on this path.”
  
  You laugh, and we continue walking, this time with rainboots on (I’ve never seen you wear rainboots…), umbrellas up, holding hands once again, despite my being a grown woman of 28 and the fact that we’re holding separate umbrellas. My sleeve is getting wet, and any other time, any other person, I’d pull away. I hate getting wet. Why are we even walking outside?
  
  As I realize these things, as always, reality begins to intrude and it dawns on me that this is just another dream. You’re not talking to me, or walking with me, and these things will never happen again, except in my dreams. I hesitate, and you look down at me (down at me? at 5’8, I tower over you!), smile and whisper something. I lean closer, but I can’t hear you.
  
  You repeat yourself, “The secret to always getting your way is to make them think it was their idea in the first place.” Something Mom always tells me I need to learn when it comes to my relationships. Something I know to be true. Something I don’t understand why you are saying this now.
  
  But as you fade away, and the sun of reality penetrates my eyelids, I realize you have, once again, gotten your way.
  
  You’re a tricky one, Dad. Very tricky indeed.

  • 10:47 am
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