Little earthquakes

She wrote back few weeks later. Totally random, like she used to do all the time. As if she continued some conversations, after kilometers of other off topic subjects, jumping among ideas like a kangaroo on a large chess table.

I guess you are right. It is something he knows, and sometimes I think he is amused. Yeah I guess that’s the word, amused. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of smiles. Milliseconds. That kind of smile full of candor and tease, lost among some other sorts of expressions and emotions that I am not exactly able to identify. This thing makes me sort of uneasy, sensory-deprived, as I feel both blind and deaf. So I am writing as this is the only thing under my control right now. The strangeness of our encounters did not stop. Or maybe it is me who has the strangest of minds, who knows?! So strange and twisted that I keep dreaming about him. And those dreams are like earthquakes, impossible to predict, shaking everything around, and leaving me breathless.

I have constantly assumed that she was telling me just some little parts of the story not the whole truth. Like she was afraid of being judged, afraid of what others may think, of what others may tell.

I keep dreaming about him. I don’t know why. I have no idea. Which make things even weirder cause in real life I keep unconsciously avoiding him. If he comes one step closer I am two steps back. Or one step aside, or simply leaving any proximity. Like his presence causes a quarantine alert, or a fight-or-flight response is automatically activated. Cause every time I have that feeling of trying to set a line, and there is always a push back someway intendedly askew. But in my dreams, everything was gentler. No matter how weird was the environment everything was gentler. I dreamt about an apartment with large windows and a huge dressing, and a parking lot for scooters on the top of the building – I could have seen up there the shiny handlebars of few Vespas each of them differently colored and the pebbled, curvy access ramp - surrounded by a green park. Apparently his apartment. It was not peculiar that I was sitting on the air conditioning in contemplation. Everything was so frightfully domestic. And the first thing that went through my mind was how I would organize the whole dressing on colors. Out of all the clothes hanging there on walls and within the wardrobes with some yellows and greens stood out from the background. Then he entered the room, with a dark beanie on his head and he told me he was going to leave to see his son. Ok, I said. No other questions or doubts. Why was I there, who is your son? The next dream brought us even closer. Which was scary and remarkably blissful. As before in a house, but a different one this time. Neither mine, nor his. But in a bed with fresh white linen - such a recurrent topic apparently. Have not I told you about this?! I will someday. I guess I know now... - that kind of linen always white and fluffy like some sort of floating cotton, and his damn inexplicably persistent tendency to be protective. I omitted to tell you about it either, is it?! Yep.... And he was caressing my hair, while I was barely touching his. I felt the smooth texture of his hair, absolutely aware of the closeness. He was asking about my family, and I guess I was telling him about my mom and dad, but I was focused on my hand and his hair, on the absolute awkwardness of the whole scene. But fully conscious of the sense of peacefulness. That kind of total, absolute zen. Like everything stood still for a moment there with him. And I felt like I was engulfed into deep, complete and utter peace. I woke up baffled asking myself in awe and terror what is gonna happen next?!

I smiled and I was thinking to write her back at that very moment, but I push back the chair and I stood up, as I was combing my hair with my fingers thinking to myself a bit mischievous but curious as hell... he will let you know somehow.