crazy subconscious…

I’ve been thinking about an old high school friend of mine lately – not because it was just her birthday, or because I saw someone who looked like her or because my parents mentioned seeing her parents.

I had a dream about her.

The weird thing is, I’ll dream about her a couple of times a year for no apparent reason. The dreams always play out as they would in real life [oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! etc etc etc] and I actually remember them vividly.

I almost never remember any of my dreams – only bits of the really wacky ones that you sometimes are in the middle of just as your waking up. [you know, where everything’s all very S. Dali, or you’re having a completely normal conversation with a crow, or your house is over-run with 100’s of cats, but (apparently) that’s the way you like it] [or maybe this is just another ‘me’ thing…] So, for me, the fact that I remember anything about a dream of a conversation with K is an odd start.

After a dream of K, I’ll think about her for the next few weeks – wonder how she’s doing, if everything turned out okay for her and where she is. We lost contact not long after high school and, though I heard little bits of things through friends who knew friends of family, I’ve had no real news about her in the last 10 years.

After a short while, though, I stop thinking about her again. I don’t think there’s any regret or remorse, just a lot of curiosity. What’s more curious is why my twisted little subconscious would spend so much time with her in particular. Now, that’s not to belittle K in any way – I think we were pretty damned good friends – but she’s not the only person that I’ve ever lost contact with. I’ve other friends who’ve moved away, moved on or with whom I’ve had a falling out but, for whatever reason, none of them seem to warrant memorable subconscious thoughts.

Despite wondering, and sometimes worrying, about her, I’ve never felt the urge to try and track K down. If I happened to run into her, I’d be ecstatic, but it would seem creepy to want to dig her up out of my past to satisfy my own curiosity.

In the dreams, K’s always doing well enough and seems happy enough. Whether that’s just wishful thinking, or extrapolating the long-ago bits of gossip that filtered my way, the dreams will have to be good enough.

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