Not Close Enough Encounters

Spider here, again.  It’s too early to have my eyes open, let alone be writing in this damn thing. I gotta go to work later, but until then I’ve got this big gap of time and I’m thinking this shit crawlin around in my head is just gonna get worse. I tried to go outside and smoke, thinking the air would clear my brain, but it didn’t help. These thoughts are all jammed up in there and I got to get em out, ya know? I see now why Res liked this blogging shit. It’s a place to get things like this into the open so the pressure in my head can maybe let up. 
I dreamed, or sort of dreamed, last night. It was like being and watchin’ all at the same time. Like I was someplace else, but still here. See, Stone (that’s my roommate) was smokin’ the fuck outta some shit last night and I guess I might have breathed in a little of it. It was good shit and by the time I got into my room and fell on the bed, I felt like I was being pulled backwards, like the mattress was sucking me into it. It pulled me so far in I thought I was going to be swallowed whole. I couldn’t really breathe. The covers were choking me. Then the pull switched to push and spit me out into space. 
Sounds like cosmic hippie shit, right? That’s how it went down, tho’. I flew out there and it was just like floating in nowhere. It wasn’t too bad, that floating. Then it was like some other sense inside me got sharper and then I could sense her; Resonance. I couldn’t see her or nuthin’, but I felt her. She was far away–really far, like a far I could never get to no matter how many miles I drove or how many planes I took. And she was hurt and scared and pissed off. But she wasn’t shouting out for me, or that dude Quinn, or anyone. With all that goin on, she was still o.k, in charge of her own shit, still the fortress she’d always been. 
And now I’m awake–not that I’m sure I was really dreamin’–and my head’s about to explode with it all. It was her. I know that. That’s not even a question. But where she was, and why, that’s what I can’t get my head around. And, if she’s so far away, so outta my reach, how in the hell am I gonna get her back? 
I’ve smoked half a pack already and all I can think of is I can’t get to her. I can’t help her. Not if I rob a hundred banks and raise ten million dollars. Not if I get that gun from under the counter at the shop and threaten everyone on the planet. Not if I stomp a thousand skulls into the pavement. I can’t help her. I can’t. And that’s pretty much all I’ve been goin’ on for the past couple months. 
I don’t know what to do. I can’t move on without her, but standing still is killin’ me.

About Avery

I am a roller derbying, dark fantasy author. This blog chronicles my adventures in life, writing and skating. View all posts by Avery

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