loyd.net

We were traveling,
Visiting someone,
Cots were set up in a spare room.
(I have thought much of traveling lately.)

Several of us were there, talking.
I was reading about some espionage case,
Perhaps it had occurred long ago,
Perhaps it was recent news,
I don't recall and it doesn't matter.
It involved secret messages which had been deciphered,
Secrets no longer.
I looked at reproductions,
Pieces of paper,
Small packets
With nonsensical sentences,
Bits of code.

One of the packets I read
Had words repeated.
(Apparently the number of repetitions meant something.)
It had a catchy rhythm.
Some of the words meant something to me,
Though what they meant in code I had no idea.
Most of the words were just nonsense.
A singer was mentioned, perhaps that's where I got the idea.

I commented how it might be interesting
To set the text to music.
I started reading it aloud.
It was quite catchy.
He came over to where I was sitting on a cot,
He tried to look at the packet,
He bent down low,
His face was close to mine—
Too close.
He could read the packet now as well as I,
Except he wasn't looking at it—
He was looking at me.
His lips were pursed in thought,
Or for some other purpose.

This seems so new yet so familiar.
Did I mention he was too close?
That same instinct I fought off years before came back,
I wanted to lean away,
Put some distance between us.
But this time I fought that instinct—
Not to be polite,
But because it was overruled by my desire.

I turned to look him in the eyes,
And that mysterious quantum effect took place,
Where one state was instantly changed to another.
I've never understood how humans,
How anyone,
Could close that gap that separates us from each other.
Here I've always imagined Zeno applied;
Here I've always thought each step closer would never be close enough.
How does one. . .
No, how do two,
Go from hesitancy to surety
Without prolonged discussion and negotiation?
How can they communicate so much with just a glance?
I never thought I could crack this code,
Uncover these secrets.
A word here or there might sound familiar,
But I could not know the proper context.
Most of it has always seemed nonsense to me.

The kiss itself was rather prim,
Quick, staccato,
Perhaps like old friends greeting each other.
At least nobody else in the room would have suspected anything.
They might think it unusual for us,
But there was nothing sensual enough to rouse suspicion.
No, it was not the contact of the lips that mattered—
It was the contact of the eyes.

He sat down next to me,
We never broke eye contact.
We were exchanging secret code;
We were negotiating the next quantuum event.

Damn dreams!
It is clear enough when I'm awake
That no matter how often I look him in the eyes
He won't return my gaze.
He certainly will never disturb me with his proximity.
I certainly will never quell my instinct to turn away.

Dreamscape XV Dreamscape Dreamscape XVI