Fever Dreams and Fever Dreams

The worst fever dreams of my life. Tossing and turning in my bedroom, on the couch, out in the ditch, on the roofs of houses, on the freeways stretching from here to where you are. The blankets that covered me were one second your hair and the next the ocean waves and then they were a field of clouds. I could smell you the whole time. Every moment there had been crashed over me. Appletini, The Lord Fox, vorhies, broken glasses in the Ukrainian Village, a certain nap on a certain rainy day in St. Louis, fireworks from church yards, the countless dinners that were so delicious they could kill you if you weren't paying attention, and through it all your hair…. I had a dream, and I'll tell you about it. It was the world as it could be and I woke up feeling so energized aside from feeling so sick. I wanted to go running, but I couldn't find my shoes and the sky was throwing down ice. And it was then that I realized the world was still grey and fever dreams are not fact as much as I wished they could be. I just wanted to hear your voice.

I have a vision in my mind of those train tracks where you would picnic, and I see us there, often, though I've never been. It's just another of those amazing moments that never was but could so easily be, if we decided to make it so. You're wearing a dress that is justifying my entire life to me and making the whole world around us jealous, and my heart is so full of desire and love for you, I'm amazed that I am even sitting there. It's autumn and the setting sunlight is falling like waves through your hair and I could just die right there. The food is delicious, the wine is making our heads dance and it's not cold yet. There is a slight breeze softly making your curls stir. I realize it's only Friday and that we have the whole weekend ahead of us. So beautiful. I cannot begin to explain it to you. No one has any idea.

And again I look up from whatever it is I am doing, petting Sam or reading a book, and I realize I'm here, you're there, and there is no sunlight at all, there is no wine, no food, no gorgeous hair or dress, just this terrible fever and the dreams it brings me. Snow is falling outside under a thick iron grey sky and the time between now and when I get to see you again feels like forever. All my memories of you are small tortures, as beautiful as they are. It's all I can do to not get in my car and come find you and somehow let you see what I have seen. If nothing else to just touch your hair once more.