I dreamed about you last night like I haven’t done in many many months. You were handsome as ever but your mouth was pulled tight into a straight livid line.
I wiped my hands on a dish rag and beckoned you to sit down at the table. You did but almost as if pushed into the chair by an unseen force.
You kept saying “I don’t understand” and you were clearly agitated, angry with me, but you couldn’t put it into words. Someone was with us but I couldn’t see her, only that she was a friend of yours.
You kept searching for words and gesturing to our surroundings, asking “how?” and “why?”
But I knew exactly what you meant. And I said the things you couldn’t say, “how can I live like this? You don’t understand how I can be happy? How anyone can have failed so spectacularly, how I can stand it?”
And the answer to all your angered wondering was I don’t know and I’m not happy and I can’t stand it.
But I didn’t get a chance to speak the answers. I started to cry and woke up with tears on my face.