Dreaming

In the haze of that place between being awake and sleeping, I saw you heading for the door.

“You going out now?”

“Yeah, I’m going out.”

You were wearing a loose summer shirt, short sleeves, un-tucked, and pair of light-colored khakis. You had on that straw hat you don’t often wear, and were sporting a well-groomed beard. You looked just the way I like you to look.

I could see you talk to the native woman, the woman who always told us where to go and how to keep safe. You crossed the ravine and began walking along the field to meet to man who would take you to where the danger is.

It was only then that my fog cleared and I realized you where going without me. I leapt from the makeshift bed in the living room of our German hosts and ran out the door, still in my underwear and barefoot. The morning light was soft, the air still sweet from the cooler night.

I couldn’t remember why we came here, what we hoped we could accomplish, or why today I had stayed in bed. I could see you on the other side of the ravine, walking quickly so as not to be late. In my panic, I realized facing the danger with you was more important than self-preservation. I began running and calling your name, my voice hoarse from lack of use. I ran and ran, calling for you, your straw hat bobbing in the distance. My lower body covered in mud from the damp earth, my face just as wet from tears and screams. I began to gain on you. My calls finally reached your ears and you turned. Seeing me, you paused. I crossed the ravine, ran the few feet between us, and grabbed you in my arms.

“Never leave without saying goodbye,” I sobbed.

You held me at arms length and smiled.