Tuesday, February 05, 2008

a little creativity ... doesn't go far enough

For anglophile:


Dreaming strange

The past two nights I have had some strange dreams.

Night before last I was at college and dating an extremely short basketball player. While he was very sweet he was not very bright and whilst hanging out in dorm rooms my friends (all friends I actually had in college) were mocking me for dating so far below my intelligence level. The poor guy stopped by to see me but couldn't keep up with the conversation.

Last night I sat at a picnic table behind my old dorm with an ex-boyfriend from college. As we watched the ants carry off bits of our take-out lunch we talked about the people we miss from college but can not tell such. It ended with me saying, "Well, I will never see you again."

My first thought upon waking was "ohh dream, you are some bit of mustard or under digested beef." My second thought was, "When did I become Ebenezer Scrooge?" It was this point that I began to think in earnest about the second dream. Such an obvious kick in the rear from one's subconscious is hard to ignore.

A newly acquired Facebook game has resulted in me lurking about Facebook for extended periods of time. The lurking has resulted in me checking up on many of the people I knew in college but have not seen or spoken to since.

For years I have missed Hillsdale in the Spring. I have missed that strange time when the year is winding down and the weather is warm. I have missed wandering up onto porches to have a beer with friends and having friends wander up to my house. I have assumed for all of the years that I have missed Hillsdale in the Spring that what I was truly missing was the close proximity of my dearest friends. This latest dream leaves me doubting this.

I stay in contact with most of my closest friends from my time in college. We call, we visit, we celebrate births and marriages and we make a point to visit each other as a large group at least once a year. In a house somewhere we gather and pretend for 48 hours or so that we are still in college. We drink and do stupid things and tell old stories that we have all heard a thousand times before and we laugh all the harder for the retelling.

I think that what I truly miss in the spring are the people I don't see or talk to anymore. I miss the friendships and potential friendships lost to time. Spring in Hillsdale was my own Erev Yom Kippur. When the weather was warm and house space was no longer at a premium all were welcome and it was possible to connect or reconnect with those you had spent little or no time with during the stressful heights of Winter's course work. These are the people now in the long days since graduation you never think about, until forcefully reminded by an old picture, spotting their doppleganger on the street or seeing something that you know would bring a smile to their face. Suddenly you remember them and think, "I wonder how they are. I wonder where they are and if they are happy."

At one of my recent gatherings I had the opportunity to reconnect with one of those people who hang fitfully at the edge of my thoughts. In the middle of our gathering he stood; tall and gangling, foul and noble as I remembered him. He is fine, he is around and while he may not be happy per say he is unhappy in that general sort of working, living, figuring life out sort of way that most people are unhappy.

When I miss Hillsdale in the Spring I am not missing the place nor the people who regularly feel the brunt of my rather spiky love. What I miss is you. All of you. All of the faces I passed in the quad or sat one booth down from in the Snack Bar. You, who touched my life. We were close once, or we might have been. Now I will never see you again.

Are you lost to me? Am I lost to you? Do I sit at the edge of your thoughts waiting to spring out and make you wonder about me when you see us in old pictures, when you see my doppleganger on the street, when you see something you know would make me smile? Just so you know I am fine. I am as loud and generous, foul and loyal as you remember me. I am around and while I may not be happy, I am unhappy in that general sort of figuring life out sort of way most people are unhappy.