January 17, 2007
Page 18
It felt like the entire world kept moving on, leaving me stuck behind. In the fall of 1970, just about everything my eyes saw was sad and seemed to quickly fade away. The light of the sun, old musty smells, and even the slight sound of falling rain did nothing more than annoy me.
I kept having a dream about an overnight train. It was always the same dream. The overnight train smelled of tobacco smoke and urinals and people were packed in like fish. The train was so crowded that there was no place to stand and the seats had old vomit clinging to them. Without any urgency, I got up from my seat and disembarked at a train station somewhere. It was so desolate that I couldn't see the light of a single house anywhere. There wasn't even a trace of a station employee. There were no clocks or timetables or anything else. It was that kind of dream.
Around that time, I began to feel that I was treating her poorly. In exactly what way, I don't remember anymore. Or it's possible I wasn't treating myself very well. Anyway, she didn't seem to care at all. Or maybe (to speak in extremes) she enjoyed it immensely. I don't understand why. After all, it's not like her desire for me was out of kindness. Even remembering that now feels strange. When it occurs to me out of the blue it brings a sad feeling, as though my hand were unexpectedly hitting an unseen wall.
Posted by tim at January 17, 2007 09:51 PM
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