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Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Vivid dreams of future memories

My first three semesters in Colorado, I participated in Dream Group. By all accounts, it was dream group that kept me sane and grounded. It helped me integrate my persona and myself. When I first got to colorado, I had an amazing split between the public Leah and the private Leah. It was a result of so many years in “leadership” positions. Drum major, resident assistant, resident director. I had a very carefully put together public persona and then privately was often a wreck. In part, because I felt like nobody knew me. Nobody knew me, because I only introduced them to Super Leah–RA to the universe.

Anyway, I started paying attention to my dreams and the people in them. Writing the narratives and details down every morning. Then on Wednesdays, taking my notebook to the counseling center to dissect the dreams.

Last night was a dream I wish I could take to Colin. The main player was Tokyo Boy. Tokyo Boy was a guy that I met in Tokyo. He was a student, but older than me. I went to Tokyo the day after my apartment was robbed. I was feeling very unsettled and unsafe. But in Tokyo, anytime I turned around–Tokyo Boy happened to be there. We built a friendship and when he was no longer a student, I aimed for something more.

That something more crashed and burned when I was in London last year. On new year’s eve, to be exact. Why? I wanted, desperately, someone to want me to come home. I wanted him to say, “Come home to me.” And he wouldn’t. After that, communication dwindled to nothing and now we don’t speak. I think. There was never a “don’t talk to me anymore” but I haven’t heard from him in months. Not since I’ve been back from London, I don’t think.

Last night, in my dreams, I walked into a restaurant in Japan. I was there on Business, but was alone. I was seated and then looked up and he was across the room at another table. I didn’t know what to do. It was in the future, but a future where we still aren’t speaking to each other. I also knew his colleague, another student from his semester. I couldn’t go over, but eventually he saw me and came to my table.

We caught up. I found out that he was now working in Japan, but commuting to Minneapolis on the weekends–because there wasn’t weekend housing in Japan. (Don’t ask, it’s a dream, you can’t always know.) He gave me his business card. I felt conflicted, but elated. Him giving me his business card was either keeping in the custom of his new country or he wanted to be in touch with me. He walked away and over his shoulder he said, “Happy anniversary. Oh, but it hasn’t been a good year. Let me tell you what happened. Why I quit talking to you.”

Then it all came out. Now in the light of morning, I can’t remember the reasons. By the end of the dream we were sitting at a table eating together with friends in Japan.

I know that won’t happen, but I wouldn’t mind a “Let me tell you what happened.”

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