bloody well tortured by yet another dream

A(nother) complex and (very) disturbing dream…
originally written - 11.11.03

What a fool for love I am. Why do I take these classes with these young people? Why am I attracted to these young women? Why do I want to fall in love with a girl that is young enough to be my daughter? For all that matter, how and why did I fall in love with Kacey last spring? What am I missing inside that makes me think being close to a young female will be comforting to me. It has started to happen already, again. This is a dream that I had. I was in Santa Cruz and Suriya was there. She was my lover. She was my confidant. I loved her and she loved me. She is a dominating woman to me. She is more powerful than I am. She makes me bend to her whims. And I do what she wants me to. I crave to be controlled. I starve to please. Submission makes me whole.

If I were actually in Santa Cruz tonight I would be drinking. I would be drinking so much. I would be writing too. I would be sitting in my corner of the Poet and Patriot writing my heart out, oblivious to all around me. You know what? I could go to Santa Cruz right now. I could get in the car and drive to Santa Cruz and be there by 10:30. That would give me 3 hours to drink. I could get really fucked up and I could let out so much hidden and buried emotion. I would stand naked at the crest of the waves breathing in the salt mist and being baptized by the rain. I could die tonight. I could, couldn’t I.

I looked into her eyes tonight. And she looked into mine. I didn’t know, but it was an opportunity to connect with her. The eye connection, well, I broke it. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t know she would do it. I was looking at her. I was absorbing her beauty with my sight and my breath. She is a very deep person. She has deep emotions and a burnished heart. And she is very, very powerful. I would give up my life for her.

She could break me too. Why am I attracted to women that can destroy me. Gurumayi destroyed me. Deirdre destroyed me. Kacie destroyed me. Sita and Tiffany destroyed me. And now Suriya could destroy me. Is that my goal in this life? To become ash? Ashes at the feet of my gurus? I get burnt, and it hurts. But I love it. I love the process of having my heart burgeon with love. And I love the intensity of my heart being slashed open so that all that love can turn to dust. I am dust. That is it. I am dust and the whirlwind is my guide.

I want to hold her. I want to hold that real person, that fleshly body, that immaculate spirit in my arms. I just want to hold her and let my spirit meld into hers. Oh my goodness, what if she would let me into her space? Could that actually happen? Could I find my way into the arms of a woman that would just hold me? And breathe with me? And dream with me? Will she let me breathe her breath? Will she let me touch her skin? Fingertips? And what is it that would happen then…

I just googled her name and I found a research paper that I assumed she had written when she attended a local high school. I was amazed because the research and political analysis this girl put into this project was massive. A very different side to who I thought it was that she is. When I reached the end of the paper, after I decided to send her an email saying, “so, you CAN write.” I discovered that it was actually not the school that I thought it was that she attended. It was a school in Georgia. Further googling showed a profundity of “Suriyas” with the same surname. Many of which were genealogical references to a woman that died in the 1700’s.