Dream Weaver
Dream Weaver, get out of mine. I was asking every stranger on the street if they’d heard from you. Unconscious affirmation of my biggest fear. Once, you threw up all over my apartment and begged me not to let you die. Once, we waded down to the river in total darkness and I allowed myself to submit. To trust you. You told me you could hear the water and feel the earth and that’s how you knew we were close. I cooked you dinner in a stranger’s house and you were tripping and drunk and high and then lying in a river that once swept away bodies and homes.
Dream Weaver, everybody said you were ungrounded. I never thought twice because that’s how I think everybody sees me, too. Strung-out. Emotional. Crazy. But still, I taught your daughter to drive for a lousy hundred bucks that held no value to her nor me. How much using can women and their kin naturally know how to master? How much bullshit can a sordid tongue push on to mine disguised as love?
Dream Weaver, I cried about my mother to you all the time. You’re twenty four years my senior but our mothers aren’t that much different in age. In rage. We’re two daughters having hated our dowry. At my age, you’re carving out a lineage in a tree. You’re signing away yourself to marry somebody you half-love.
Dream Weaver, I spent eight days in the woods and fell in love with a stranger I knew could never hold me. We’re in the Thai restaurant by your house and you hold my hand across the table to help me walk-back from this offering I wish to give somebody who wants for nothing. You talk to me about integrity.
Dream Weaver, we’re pushing up daisies side by side. Slowly burying and covering these selves we helped the other to let die. You’ve always been so scared to reach for the shovel. Somehow I must have helped the process along the way.
Dream Weaver stole the baton right from my hand. Packed up her crow life and ran 3,000 miles taking her goodbye with her. Pawning your shit off on me. Syphoned every beautiful feeling you could from me. Refusing my help once the end begins to loom. Taking from me what you needed to pony-up. Endless spiritual guidance. Declaring me: your Oracle. On the phone you taught me how to say goodbye to somebody who is dying. I weeped. Your mouth is always blabbering but you paused.
Dream Weaver doesn’t want to be my mother. Dream Weaver wants me to lust for her because that is more appealing when you’re busy weaving all those god damn dreams. When you’re busy viewing everything transactionally.
Dream Weaver, every child you have ever known loves you because you give it so freely. Of course I did too. Of course I am just another child abandoned by you. This story is beautifully webbed
Dream Weaver wants to be unwanted. My singularity cannot blame her. I harnessed what she never could.
