Ripples

Bleed American Album, Jimmy Eat World

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I cannot imagine a better way to describe the way we see things other than that they are most usually ripples of some other event in the world. One thing spawns another, and so forth, until its cause-and-effect relationship on the world slowly fades to nothing due to resistance and distance. There are ways to foresee these events, as though they were whispers in the wind about them before hand, or like seeing a forest of animals flee before a terrible disaster strikes. There are many of us in the world that are granted the ability to foresee events, allowed to view one possible outcome of the place and the how a disturbance affects the waters around us...

Though none could ever know for sure whether what they saw was only a mere possibility, or just an easily acceptable formation of events created by our souls in conjunction with our minds for our hearts to understand more readily. That is, if we are not too ignorant of the warnings.

A while ago, a friend had a dream, where he and his brother had to kill one of their dogs. After deciding which, and how, they did it, and even though the dog appeared in the dream later, it was never the same. When he awoke, the dog, even then, shied away from him the whole day, refusing to go near him, even for food. As soon as I was told this story, I knew which dog, and how, and what it all meant, and though I wasn't sure what to say, I kept it in my mind, waiting for the day that it would come to pass, if ever; I find it safe to say that he had any knowledge, or could barely even grasp its true definition as well as I had. When I asked a close friend for advice, I was told not to say a word, and that should the occasion ever arise, mostly for the small possibility that it mightn't, I could share that information with the Dreamer then, having well-earned the right and the experience of fact. The time I was told the dream was the second-to-last time I saw the Dreamer.

The last was a chance invitation, only because, I think, he answered his phone and I was drawn out to him. It now seems to me that having this experience, I was able to have learned information I had until then merely wondered about, but that's another story about love and intrigue and dishonesty. This was the last time I saw this person. I knew at that point, that the dream, which I had interpreted as a devastating blow to his and my relationship, had already passed beyond any recoverable state, and would continue in a downward motion like the falling of a guillotine. It wasn't until last night that I could truly and honestly confirm this.

I was wandering toward the register at the local Wal-mart and about to leave when the Dreamer appeared; he seemed casual, but there were already too many factors involved in the meeting to join in his atmosphere. Throughout the conversation I couldn't even look at him -- I couldn't bring my eyes to him! And I couldn't understand why. I was angry and confused and scared and hurt most of all, and it wasn't working out well. When Laura told me we had to go, I immediately turned and walked off, paid, and waited kindly for her while facing the other direction. She wasn't too long in the coming. Once I reached the car, and that in itself was laborious, I broke. I grew so angry tears rushed down my face and my breathing grew haggard; it was a while before I could move to turn the car on and drive home safely.

If there is anything I regret, I regret not punching him square in the face for all he'd done to me. Laura told me she didn't care for people as much as I did, and that I should harden myself to things like this. "If he doesn't get it, then it's not worth it," she told me, but I still have a year wasted. I still have a heart wasted; I still have my soul, my money, and my time wasted, and I am here stuck in Texas again mostly for the Dreamer. The one who warned me without knowing.