Dream Too Late

It’s been nearly 18 years since that night we sat under the November full moon overlooking Kaiko’s break, those Blackpoint mansion lights gently glowing against the cliffs. Three nights in row. The cops shining a flashlight in your Toyota when he couldn’t distinguish what we were doing through the fogged up windows. Those goosebumps didn’t leave for years. I just shoved it all into a box and left it in the closet to forget after that last time  – four years ago when I stripped down to vulnerable again, and you stayed silent…

Silent.

After a multitude of wine nights arguing metaphysics and philosophy that came and went since our teens,

After bowling in Aiea with your college friends,

After those midnight sessions laying in the truck beds hidden in pastures off Haleakala Highway,

After all the “miss yous” that came in-between every girlfriend,

After making out on your couch again, roses in hand…

I tucked away the chapters of us and decided to forget it all when it seemed again we wouldn’t work out. You were always so late. Late for that breakfast at La Provence, late to the bible studies freshman year, late to come in from the surf – making us wait in the wind at the temples at Baldwin beach, late to confess your love to me – calling when I had just had a baby with another man….and you are late again now.

Watching me through the crowd. I saw. I felt you like I always do. I always dream of you before you come back. I noticed your solemness. So, I know it’s just a matter of time now… last dream was weeks ago.

And I’m stuck. Stuck here trying to figure out why I’ve been flustered about you. Stuck here thinking of it all, wondering what it all meant. If it meant anything at all. Maybe I just believed it was more because I needed that at the time. Maybe we just were each other’s escape from the pressure they put on us – to be what they could not be – the secrets were easier than facing them alone.

I haven’t been back to San Francisco since you drove us there that summer 2009. Thank god you rented a car – I was so naive – just trusting somehow we’d make it, willing to take a bus to get to you. Even then you couldn’t tell me the truth – didn’t tell me about her till I was already on the plane. And even then, I was supportive of your choice, asking to sleep on the couch instead of share the bed – but you followed me into the shower like nothing had changed. All those dumplings – you always order too much, the art galleries - you are drawn to, the thick RVCA hoody you gave me when I started to freeze – I kept it, even in my marriage – it got lost somewhere moving during my divorce.

I’ll never forget the beautiful bell sounds of your phone alarm in the cold early mornings of that weekend, how you always made your bed and kept a room tidy like military do or how you had that phase of eating Nato and cold pizza. All your rooms in our twenties had the blues, neutrals or greens – only in 2011 was it not – she had quite a different taste from you. I never understood how you ended up with people so unaligned from your broad mind – and now you are lonely living in their world you don’t want.  

When you text me this next time, I’m going to invite you to talk, like always. But this time, I’m not going to play sweetly like one day we’ll be together. This time, I’m going to let you go and stay your friend from the outside. I’ve done my goodbyes in my heart. I cried so much last time you didn’t come back that my rose-tinted glasses broke and chipped away month after month. One day, I hope all those hand written letters I mailed you will make us both smile about a time when lovers had to plan time for each other and articulate feelings in ways before social media and web dating diminished true meaning. One day, I hope those years don’t feel so bittersweet. I know the conversations, hand holding, laughing overlooking the valley in the dreams with you won’t stop – they haven’t in 20 years. But what I’ve learned in this graduation is that sometimes dreams manifest 20 years too late.

*Please note that this read is meant to be entertaining, not necessarily factual