A dream Tuesday, January 29, 2008

And we’re all in a pool. He is wearing these thin blue trunks with no lining. I laugh because I can see his penis and it makes him mad. We are hugging intimately. I sometimes forget and almost kiss him, even though I know I don’t do that. It’s just a habit - something I do when I’m that close to someone’s face. We’re hugging and then holding our breath and sinking to the bottom and staying there for a few minutes. I have to hyperventilate before going down. We stay down there, not breathing. If you blink too much, the air bubbles in front of your eyes that let you see blink away. I run out of air early each time, and my body panics and twitches in fear, and I have to rush us to the surface. I come up gasping, as though I have been holding my breath and running for a very long time.

He has no patience for it. He doesn’t want to wait and let me breathe. I’m saying jokes and he’s saying jokes that we both laugh at. We understand each other. He says: “You know where the entrance to New York is? You know where it is? It’s at that sign, at Buffalo.” He turns around and points. I say: “Right where it says, in Big Letters, “Entrance to New York?”" I’m teasing him. We’re laughing. People think we’re together.

Then I’m out of the pool, on the edge. He’s cuddling with another person, who has her brown arm around his neck. I try not to care. I know I can’t care.

So I jump into the pool again, and sink to the bottom. I’m there by myself. This time I can breathe. A friend comes down there with me, and I tell her how hard it is for me. But I’m breathing and speaking and reading and swimming down there - without him. It feels nice. I can do whatever I want.

So I do.