Dreams of Rebirth
After I had completely healed, we had a number of other amusing complications in our dalliance. It won't dwell on them here. We are made to please each other, and I think that one of the joys of joining is exploring the peaks. I did have occasion, much later, to analyze and understand that basis of our bliss. But sex is easy, and a catalyst for jealousy. Building a relationship is hard, and separates lovers from users.
One of the problems of empathy is accepting ownership of others' responses to events. After my awakening, the complexity of my mental environment multiplied, and this problem deepened. It is probably the reason that I erected my barrier in the first place. Our relationship was strongly colored by my difficulties in managing that process.
She began to construct dreams with me. The most beautiful went as follows.
We are in a limousine, riding down a forested road in New England. She is dressed in a white evening gown, I in formal attire. She is smiling at me, then looks down blissfully as I reach out for her hand. She pauses, turning to look out her window. The sun is low in the twilit sky, but the trees fall away in stands that pass light only through the spaces between the trunks. Under the branches, we see the yellow-orange sky on the horizon. At her suggestion, the driver pulls over across the road from a small clearing in the stand.
She gets out, and I follow. She crosses the road, arms lifted in wonder. The thickened forest blocks the sun, but the ground is carpeted with yellow, orange and red. The trunks of the trees are black. She stops in the opening, and holds her arms out to me, smiling in wonder. I walk over to her, and reach out to clasp her waist. She laughs and falls backwards, pulling me to the ground. We fall on a cushion of leaves. It should hurt, because we're naked, but it doesn't. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I cocoon her with my arms and shins. We make a knot of appendages, close, close as we can gather them around our hearts.
We embrace, and my perspective jumps. We are still, embracing, expectant. The leaves rise from the ground and paper us in color. We are cocooned. The earth opens to receive us. We fall through the fertile earth. Animals, roots and dirt yield to us. Her breath brushes my cheek. I am kissing her neck, pressing myself against her, trying to go deeper. The roots of the trees move, gathering around us, flattening, shielding us from the reality outside. We are together, now one personality, but still male and female, both natural and accepted by nature.
We are still, deeply aware of each other, but without expectation or need. The seed begins to rise. The earth opens and the woody cover pokes into the air. She waits for me. I don't want it to be over, but she seems to be waiting, and I have no thoughts. I begin to pull away, but she stops me. "Wait." I look closely at the seed, and a crack is growing. I am pulled into it, and the shell shatters, a pyrotechnic spray of light blinds me and carries me up. She follows, dancing after me on a trail of light in the air, laughter, catching my fingers as I fall back to the ground in a crouch.
We rise, again in formal attire. I am abashed by her virtuosity. She takes my hand, and turns me away.
There are more, too many to remember.
We are a lord and his lady, discovering a cavernous hot spring while riding with our retinue.
We are trees, bound together in our roots. Her leafy hair reaches out and twines me to her. We kiss.
I walk into our home. She awaits me, holding an over-large sweater. She pulls off my shirt. She leads me into the kitchen, stainless steel and tile. She puts me on a bar stool, and drops the sweater over my head. Smiling, she pulls off her shirt, then lifts the hem of my sweater over her head. Her hands are cool and soft against my chest. Turning around, she props herself on the stool between my legs, and her head pops out. Her hair is caught in the corner of my mouth. The scent of her shampoo. She runs her arms through the sleeves. Spinach, feta and eggs are on the counter. We make an omelette.
And then there are the stories. I could not distance myself from unpleasantness. "Could we focus on something more pleasant? Give me a story."
A movie plot. Star Wars the way it should have been. A concrete mechanism to bring us together.