Incorporeal Consciousness- Addended

Last night I went to dinner with Sam. Shoving my way past the paparazzi waiting to get a glimpse of the trailer trash-like tabloid diva, Ms. Britney Spears…who just happened to be having a couple of empanadas at the Gaucho Grill next door…I finally saw him after almost over 3 months. Much has happened in both of our lives since the last time we shared a meal. He has started seeing what sounds like a wonderful woman and I have started seeing William. There was much to discuss. He filled me in on his new squeeze and I told him about mine. Of course…I gave him the readers digest condensed version.

Me: He had a high pressure job...burned out...is now back to his first love
Sam: Been there (he had a high pressure career and burned out...decided to follow his dream of being a writer…and had misgivings about that decision)
Me: Right...so he's making a lot less money than he used to...
Sam: Been there...
Me: Right...and his parents are old school pick something, make money, get married, and be miserable for the rest of your life
Sam: Right...been there too. So what you're telling me is he hates himself and he's internalizing all of his self loathing and feels worthless like he has nothing to offer anyone...
Me: Right

After telling him some of the stories, both good and bad, he said “Having been there…it sounds like everything is fine...he just needs to work through his shit.” Then he said “Why do you think you keep attracting people like this into your life?” to which I replied “I don’t know that I attract them at all…I think I’m sent.” I reminded him of how unsure he was of his decisions and postulated that my friendship might have been at least some help in getting him to a more happy head place.

I, myself, have been fortunate enough to have been sent people that have helped me become the person that I am today. Take Sophie, for example. We met when we were 16 years old. My new boyfriend took me on a double date with his best friend and Sophie. We became instant friends. I don’t even remember the boys that night as Sophie and I sat across the table from each other barely paying attention to them.

After that night we were practically inseparable. At the time, I was a bit of a damaged bird. Shy and unsure of myself, she really brought me out of my shell. It was summertime so we spent our afternoons at the beach and our evenings driving here there and everywhere singing and car dancing to bands I’d never even heard of up to that point…The Violent Femmes, The Cure, The Smiths, The B-52’s, and the Ramones to name a just a few. She was the first person ever to ask me why I hid my face under so much hair and my body under baggy clothing. She taught me to dance in front of her floor to ceiling mirror and before you knew it…I was the life of the party right alongside her. I blossomed. Both of us eventually broke up with the men that had brought us together, but we remained friends through it all.



But, it wouldn't last forever. 2 years after we met...she was gone from my life. I'll never forget the night I found out she was gone.

When I got home that night the first thing I saw was my mothers’ new furniture. Commenting on how nice it looked I noticed our mutual friend Dan sitting on the couch…wearing a suit. “Gee Dan…what’s with the get-up” I asked. He stood…and with a grim look on his face he said “I have some bad news.” When he told me that Sophie had died 4 days prior in a plane crash I didn’t believe him at first. Plane crash? She wasn’t in any plane. And then I remembered. I remembered that phone call I’d received Friday morning. Sophie whispered into the phone “I'm going to tell my parents I’m spending the night at your house tonight. Peter just got his pilots license and he is taking Beth and I on a double date to Santa Barbara…”

I collapsed into Dans arms. I couldn't believe it. When is the funeral? The funeral was to be in Chicago 2 days later. He’d just come from the memorial. In all the confusion no one had thought to call me and since we didn’t go to the same school I didn’t find out through the normal channels. When my absence was realized the gang drew straws to see who would have to tell me. Dan drew the short straw.

She never saw her 18th birthday. She was and always will be young and beautiful. But she left a piece of herself here and anyone that has ever spent time with me has spent time with a piece of that girl. But she is not gone.

In the weeks that followed I would still dial Sophies number whenever something happened that I thought she’d want to hear about…things she would normally be the first person I told. A few times I even let the phone ring a few times before I remembered that she was gone. Several months after her death she started appearing in my dreams and I would run from her. I don’t know why but something in me knew she was dead and shouldn’t be there…even in dreams.

One night, while indulging in after-hours coffee shop grease I told Ben, her ex and my friend still, about the dreams. I told him that sometimes…when I’d run from her I would find myself at a house. And old abandoned house surrounded by trees and overgrown with brush. His eyes widened. He beckoned me to his car and drove me through the canyons. He took me to the house I had up to that point only seen in my dreams. It had been their spot, he told me. He grabbed my hands and said “next time…talk to her.”

And I did. The next time I dreamt of Sophie we sat at her grandmothers table in her kitchen in Italy. We spoke for what seemed like hours and then she looked at me, covered my hands with hers, and said “I have to go now…but you will be OK…I want you to know that.” She stood and walked out the door into…I kid you not…a whitewashed landscape…or…in other words…a very bright light. I woke bolt up-right…as though I’d never been asleep.

I had never been to that kitchen in Italy but later…when I saw a photo of it…I knew I had been there in my dream. That bright yellow kitchen in a country I’ve never physically set foot in.

Over the years she has come to me often…usually when I have been at cross-roads in my life. She comes less and less these days…and it’s been years since she has visited me in a dream. But I sometimes feel her presence. And sometimes…I just suddenly change my mind about something I had been dead set on…only to find out later that it would have been the wrong or dangerous thing to do.

Last Tuesday as I was lying in bed trying to sleep but having hard time as I kept mulling over a conversation I had just had with the leading man in my life, wondering if I were making a mistake in trusting him when my cat jumped up on the bed and curled up between my legs. She lay there quietly as I pondered whether or not I was going to put my energy into “fixing” this man only to have him run into the arms of another. Would my association with him do just what he fears and bring me down…hold me back? I simply couldn’t sleep. I was arguing with myself. Telling myself I was being silly for having faith in this man. I was chastising myself for naively believing words that have not been backed up by actions.

When the time came to change positions I reached down to move the cat out of the way. Only…she wasn’t there. She wasn’t even in my room. I got back into bed and as I settled down in a solo spoon position I felt the pressure on my back...the breath on my neck, and Sophie was there. I couldn’t see her, but I felt her. She stroked and curled my hair between her fingers until I fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning I felt sure that I am on the right path. I don’t know if this is the right path because he is the man I’m going to grow old with or if it’s because I need to be there for him during this time in his life. Maybe I need him...even in this capacity...or maybe I have been sent to him. Maybe he was supposed to meet me right now when he needs someone…someone like me…that can make him feel loved even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.

I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter. I trust Sophie. She has never steered me wrong. I don’t think she ever will.

You might think I’m crazy. You might think I’m grasping at straws here. But I’m not. I honestly don’t know why I need to stick with him right now…and I have no illusions that this is “all going to work out.” All I know for sure is that it feels right and that I do so without peril to myself, and that is all that matters…at least to me.

And…as arrogant as this might sound…I believe that I am sent into people’s lives when they need a supportive voice…a hand to hold...a shoulder to cry on...a witness to the struggle...and a cheerleader for the effort.

At least…that’s what I hope I am.



P.S. As I was finishing this post my guy phoned me. He asked if I'd like to see a movie with him next week. I told him I'd love to. Experience tells me not to hold my breath...as I haven't seen him in almost a month at this point, but I'm hopeful that I will see him soon...and breathe in his scent that is like aromatherapy for me. That would be nice...very very nice.

Addendum:
Last night I was really tired when I was writing that post. I almost considered just curling up in bed and watching a movie....but for some reason I really wanted to write about Sophie.

I woke up this morning and realized that yesterday would have been her 35th birthday. Happy Birthday Sophie!