Last night I dreamt I met John Cusack, again. This was not our first meeting. But it was the first time to introduce him to my husband. I wanted time alone with John to tell him how I’d done it: how I’d made it happen. Our meeting last time was not an accident. I’d manifested him: by watching his movie, drawing closer with a feeling, then before falling sleep, doing as I’d done as a teen: creating luscious scenes of love, laughter, and longing. I slept. Woke. The next day. Remember? I told him The next day you arrived at the event -- -- now the telling’s interrupted -- Husband joins us. I introduce the two and we three sit together, sipping, until: Oh! A notification interjects. Excuse me. I have to take this. He moves away (though tosses me an afterthought: You two aren’t having an affair, are you?) I scoff. Me? And an A-List movie star? Husband accepts, ambles away. John remains, waiting, sprawling, black coat open, feet holding down the earth. We sit on wicker, lean up, into a whisper zone. I continue recounting: You arrived. You remember. I was on the steps above and there you were. See? I manifested you. He smiles. He sees. Then we had those three days in the cinder block bungalow. It just kept raining, he says. I nod, water pouring of metal. A oak table, the chipped sink, dreary porch. So much rain. The presence of him -- his warmth, his desire to be near -- fills the space. We lean back on cushions, silent. Thoughts overlap. My mind tumbles. Maybe, yes we do need say we are having an affair. Even though nothing has happened at all. Not really. It’s all just a dream.
It’s Saturday, April 13th, Day 13 of NaPoWriMo.
I have vivid dreams that I often remember. This is a taste of the odd dream I had last night, translated into a poem.
Note: April 14, 1989 was the release date of perfect Gen X film “Say Anything … ” That makes the film by Cameron Crowe 35 years old, as of tomorrow.
It’s available for streaming on Hulu (if you have a subscription) or for rent on Amazon Prime.
Whatever happened to Ione Skye?