Last night I dreamed of Martin Luther King. I was with him at the onset of his rise to power, shortly after he'd gotten popular enough to have to go into hiding for a short period to escape persecution.

We were waxing philosophical in his garage (which was vaguely familiar) when we were interrupted and urgently summoned to deal with a crisis: a little girl that was part of our 'camp' had been missing for days, and there was some confusing surrounding her disappearance. I'm fuzzy on the details but something thing concerning her murdering a white man (an absurd notion - she was maybe 12).

A member of our camp had a hunch, or got a tip, or figured out that she was trapped inside a hide-a-bed. In true dream fashion this thing had about 8 layers to unfold outward before we got to her. She was there, wedged firmly against a dead white man who was wrapped tightly in black tarp.

So we got her out and...there's really no point to the explanation of this dream, save one:

I didn't dream about you last night. Not once.


I think I've been extra emotional lately (just the way you hate). I think your damn "I miss you - I love you" at the end of our last conversation knocked my shit around.

I can't do that anymore.

What I can do is go get ready for work, change peoples lives (most notably my own), hit deadlifts, miss you with all my heart, and love you the best way I can: by staying away.

I miss you so much puppy.

Every morning I prepare two or three bagel sandwiches for lunch that day. I get the bagels down from the top of the fridge, the mayonnaise, cheese, and meat out, and spread a paper towel down so I don't make a crumbly mess.

And everyday I make a smiley face with the squeezable mayo onto the bottom half of the bagel.

And everyday I want you to see it.

I was flipping through the channels today in a rare moment of TV watching and lucked upon a rerun of Scrubs. There were some moments that had me doing my 'movie theater laugh' that you say is so loud.

And I wanted you there to watch it and laugh with me.

And I miss you.

And I'm almost ready to be with you again. I feel it coming, like a healthy spring rainstorm that you can smell in the air, not four or five hours away.

I love you Puppy.

Day one - 3/10/08

Once again it was 3 am before I could get to sleep last night. It's no surprise why; I wish I could think of you less at those times, because my thoughts always tend toward things having to do with sleeping/beds/intimacy/someone sharing your bed. During the day I can usually rationalize it away, "I've been with other girls, several even. And even when we were together I wasn't completely faithful in my actions. It's only fair. In fact, it's the right thing for right now."

At night it's a different story: there are no distractions - visual, audible, or otherwise - to draw my attention elsewhere. And that's when my thoughts are too loud for me to shut out. Not just loud, but with my cursed imagination, vivid.

The worst part of my day is most of my night.