she loved me

Jeff is playing the guitar and singing quietly in his living room. Even though I've told him how much I enjoy his playing he seems self-conscious about doing it much around me. I guess I'm the same with the piano. I shared two glasses of wine with Jeff tonight and my head feels a little bit fuzzy, and I feel loose and light. I smiled too much and too big, it felt very good.

I'm full of big questions and I don't know how to pose them. They sit quietly inside me and mature, even gradually resolve themselves. What do I really want from life and are my day to day choices a reflection of that? The ultimate truth about me? Or do they reflect a little bit of the fear that crowds my actions? Inspires me to be small when I long to be big. Convinces me to be safe when I wonder what risk tastes like, feels like... Exposes what I truly believe about myself, that I am bound to this little sphere that I have always functioned in and was not meant for anything bold, adventurous or wildly free. And then I wonder, is all of that okay? Because it is the reality of who I am? My own inner dialogue.

I dreamt about an old woman last night, thin, bent with long wispy gray hair and draped in white loose clothes, a sad, forlorn face standing before me in a bathroom. An omen, she loved me, like a ghost and I knew not what to make of her. I had seen her face before, in stranger circumstances and had carefully tended to her garments to make everything how it had been before, to make it right. I had been a mess, a horrible mess and found myself out of control and distraught. I was in a pretty black dress, made up and lovely and I was destroying it without meaning to. And I cried desperately in the state I was in. To make up for it I climbed into a shower in my pretty black dress and let the water saturate every part of me, hair, skin, clothes. Hoping it would fix it, knowing it couldn't fully...

In her face I believe she struggled to speak to me, to impart something of great importance. Her face so troubled! She never said a word. All her feeling was written on her face.