When I was 14 my history teacher described a movie he had seen, unable to recall the name. "You would know it, Nicole," he said. It was requiem for a dream. I haven't seen it, but it is the type of movie I would see, in that whole classroom only I would have, but I still don't know why Muncy singled me out.
Last night before falling asleep I has the strangest sensation. In that half-dream state an old woman walked up to me as I knelt in the darkness. She placed her hand on my forehead and pushed me over. It was the sensation of falling that woke me, the kick, the moment when you lose all control.
I'm not sleeping well yet
All the words I want to say come rushing out in my sleep, I see so many images and gain no meaning from them. I imagine running into old friends I haven't seen in a while, hugging them in a crowded street. I see myself stranded in a bar in south america, pleading for a phone line, calling you, Amanda. I am lost, I am a stranger here, get me back home, I say, but the connection is broken before you reply.
Tonight I rode my bike home in the pouring rain, holding a hand to my face to shield my eyes. It was light when we left campus, a drizzle that thickened before we hit willow, left me soaked and squinting at traffic. When we got home Evian and I stripped down and jumped in the pool in our underwear, turned on the light to give the water that magic green cast, like some alien home. Between the purple-storm-light sky and the neon water it was magic, floating on our backs, watching a lightning storm, while our neighbor played loud big-band jazz. "I didn't know this was on my bucket list but I can cross it off now" I told Evian.
"I'm really glad I decided not to live alone," she said.
Later we watched Mad Men with Bailey, drank coffee, I baked cookies and we ate the leftover dough. After mad men it was star trek, with Evian in Faine's pink snuggie, the rain intermittent and keeping us calm. I am far from home but I watch the stories of my mother with my girlfriends, I am a stranger here myself but I have inherited furniture that has been loved, I may be soaking wet but I am not alone.
I am grateful for all of these things.