Hey you! Remember me?

I dreamt of you the other night. One of those significant ones. Can't get it out of my head. You and I and Rachel were in some kind of apartment building. It had a modern theme. I hated it. Everything was white and I half expected to see that couple from Saturday night live sitting on their weird little chairs. Everyone there was young, our age. Not our age now...the age we used to be. The inside age. You sat down in the floor Indian style and I sat in front of you. You cried. I held you against me in a hug. I vividly remember the feeling of you shaking and sobbing..hard. I can close my eyes and I can feel how it felt. We didn't talk.

At some point we noticed a commotion in the hallway. We opened the door and were whisked away into the herd. Everyone was leaving at the same time. As the elevator door closed I looked over at Mr. Mustang holding both our children, worried look on his face. You vanished from my mind. Erased. We weren't leaving we were evacuating. "What happened" I breathed, as the door slid open again. Someone answered with a word I didn't comprehend. Didn't matter anyway because I could see for myself. The structure was surrounded by water. It was rising or we were sinking. I'm still not sure. People dove into the water on all sides..easy, smooth, like little penguins sliding off the edge. They were immediately eaten by something. Sharks? The fuse lit and panic exploded. It was chaos. Water was lapping over the only walkway leading to safety..to land. Either the building swayed, or the water receded and I used the opportunity to jump into a muddy spot. I looked back unsure if that had been right. I realized the kids now had to be thrown..could I catch them? Would a better mother have thrown them first? What about the sharks? Who would've caught them? It was such a short window to jump. Did I think of myself first? NO, no, no. I was just acting on instinct. Doesn't a mother's instinct apply to the children first? What had I done?

I don't know what happened to you. I didn't care.

Please resist the urge to dissect this, to jump start the engine. It doesn't matter what it meant. Just a stupid dream. I don't know which night.. I don't work that way, remember? Maybe you don't. My internal clock isn't really attached to time - more to feeling, sighs, breaths of air. That's where I live. Not a solid straight line, just a maze of memory..a labyrinth of ancient, beautiful, crumbly walls.

Don't worry, I'll keep your secrets there.