12.23.97

Calendar: One down, one to go! C'mon, I know you want it.

Woke up with a vivid dream floating fresh among the synapses. It’s still with me, even now, and I want to keep it here. I dreamt of my long lost friend Harbo (aka, John), his wife Tawnya, and their two children (although I think he has only one). I miss him. I don’t know where the dream came from, as I don’t think of him so much anymore. Sometimes I remember and then maybe I’ll do an internet search for him, always coming up with the same defunct email address. Anyway, he is a loss from my life, this person who I thought was a true friend. He ended up making a choice between friendship and love; of course, love won. I dreamt that I had somehow contacted them and got them to come to dinner at my G-ma’s house. They came, two kids in tow. John looked just like he did 10 years ago, and Tawnya looked svelte and beautiful. The children played minor roles, usually just hanging around underfoot. So mainly the actions in the dream centered around my interactions with John and Tawnya, with me trying so hard to win them over (especially Tawnya) so they would extend friendship to me. At one point, I spilled something on the carpet. I went to clean it up and Tawnya went into another room to tell some unknown person that I was an idiot, basically. I can’t remember exactly what I heard her say in the dream, but I became angry and determined to show her I only meant goodwill. We ate, and I convinced them to come with me to some sort of mall/amusement park-type place. They drove a little green car, not Harbo’s parent’s car but a different one that seemed newer and more sporty. I kept staring at it because it was so different than the Camaro John had driven throughout high school, the one he was driving the very last time I saw him. At the park, we saw one of those machines that takes your picture and makes it into 16 little stickers. I explained it to them, and we all had our picture taken. Somehow, the amusement park broke the ice and Tawnya revealed to me that what I’d overheard her say to unknown person was not what she said, and what she actually said was really something quite benign. I felt better, even if I didn’t quite believe her. I pled my case: I wanted friendship with the both of them. I was not a threat to their relationship - never was, despite what others told her - and that I would be so happy if I could just listen to John narrate again; if I could just experience his slapstick brand of humor. The dream ended somewhere shortly after that. See, I don’t remember the details so much, but the feeling is still strong. The dream elicited this feeling of deep connection, of pure friendship. It was pure in the dream, like it was in real life. Why those around us didn’t understand the friendship, or that they tried to ruin it by spreading rumors, I don’t know. I suspect they were just spiteful people. When I think back to that time, when he and I spent so much time together, I remember that I felt the most safe around him. I could tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else. I think maybe that was true for him too, and maybe that was the real reason Tawnya hated me. We went to the same University for awhile, before he quit. The last time I remember seeing him was in the parking lot at QFC in University Village. I followed his Camaro - easily recognizable by the last three letters of the license plate, KSM (Kiss ‘em) - down the hill from the UW. I followed him to the pay phone by the Seafirst Bank where I knew he was getting ready to call Tawnya. He called her from there and not from the warmth of his own room because he said he couldn’t get enough privacy there. Better to stand in the cold? We chatted for a few moments, but he was anxious to make the call. I don’t remember ever seeing him again, and he has been careful not to be found since. It was more than his having to make a choice and more than Tawnya merely hating me. It has more to do with the nature of the love John and Tawnya hold: a love that cannot bear sharing. In my thoughts I always believe we can be friends again, and maybe that could happen someday. But the reality is that they are not ready for friends. At least that’s what his mother told me on the phone two years ago: "Honey, they just aren’t ready to let other people in yet." She asked repeatedly that I try not to contact them. They had just reconnected with their families, and I suppose at the time she feared that any rocking of the boat would send her overboard and out of their lives again. I realize that even if I wanted to contact him, I couldn’t. He has hidden himself well, and his family isn’t talking.

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