January 2005 / Volume VI / Issue I
Mike Estabrook

Linda was in my dream last night

Linda was in my dream last night, looking the same as she did 30 years ago
in high school, young as a spring breeze, like she still does in her
yearbook picture, her dark hair piled up in that old 60s look, her white
neck showing, her lips as red as autumn leaves, striding confidently forward
towards me, her shortness still beckoning and she’s smiling, glad to see me,
and we throw our arms around each other, it has been awhile since we’ve seen
one another. We kiss each other on the cheeks and then for some reason (our
faces are so close) I smile and say “It's so good to see you” and I give her
a little peck on her mouth, it’s OK to kiss a dear, lifelong friend on the
mouth, after all I dated her in high school before I dated my wife. She is
still my wife’s best friend, but lives a thousand miles away. She smiles at
me, her eyes so bright, and I kiss her again on the mouth and this time she
kisses me back and we hold hard onto one another (if we hold hard enough
time will stop, we won’t get further and further from our high school days)
and we kiss hard, then I break away and we look at each other with such
intensity. And so I can’t help myself (I don’t know why exactly, a swirl of
psychological reasons spinning through my unconscious, mostly– I’m young
again!) I kiss her again and it’s a good strong kiss, our tongues meeting
cautiously, pausing, wondering, and then I gently hold the back of her neck
with my hand to provide a little support (I suppose) and she breaks our kiss
abruptly, pushes me away and says, “Hold on, hold on, what are you doing?”
Her brow hard and firm and angry, her whole face as intense as winter. I
look at her frightened and say, “I don't know. What am I doing?”
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