- Steven M.
I dreamt about you last night.
I called you on the phone
even though you passed away
over four weeks ago now.
I don’t know why I called, I
don’t know what I was hoping for,
but when you answered your phone
I said, “Dave?”
You said, “Yes.”
And I asked, “How are you?”
You said, “Fine.”
And I asked, “You’re not dead?”
You said, “No.”
“But I just told someone
you passed away a month ago.”
“Oh,” you said, “Don’t worry.
I’ll take care of it.”
And you sounded so -
so relaxed. So peaceful.
They say that dreams are your
chance to think over the things
unresolved from your day. And
I keep dreaming about you.
Don’t I think about you enough?
You’re the one that left me.
Why are you coming back,
at night, when I let my defenses
down, slipping in through my
window and working your way
into my dreams?
I dreamt about you last night.
We were sitting together,
about to go out for the evening.
You were wearing a black
t-shirt and black jeans.
We were running late, and you
were angry. “I wanted to wear
this, but I wanted to put more
black on - I wanted to wear my
black vest and my black jacket.”
You know, I thought it was
always funny, how much you cared
about the clothes you wore.
So I said, “But Dave, you look
fantastic in your jeans and
t-shirt.” And you smiled at me
and kissed me.
I wish I could have told you
more in life how good you looked.
I’m sorry, Dave. I’m so sorry.
I wish in life I could have told
you the things you wanted to hear.
I saw you today. You were in a
black car and you were wearing
dark sunglasses. He could have
been you, if I closed my eyes
and squinted just slightly. You pulled
up in the lane next to me as I
was driving to my sister’s house.
You were about to turn right and
I watched you look at the oncoming
traffic, waiting for your chance to
leave me again.
Let me think that it was you,
driving, living. Let me think that
you’re just ignoring me. Then
I can be angry with you.
I dreamt about you last night.
I was on a cruise ship, and you
were working as a waiter. You wore
one of those silly short jackets
for your uniform. It was a sea blue.
And every time I thought I saw you
you would turn away to do your
job. All I ever caught were fleeting
glimpses of you, walking away.
All I keep thinking is that
my days are finally free of you
but they’re not. I keep thinking
of you. And it isn’t enough.
I still can’t escape you at night.
Scars Publications and Design
in conjunction with Penny Dreadful Press
first edition
copyright @ 2004 Scars Publications and Design
This book, as a whole, is fiction, and no correlation should be made between events in the book and events in real life. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.
Information about past books is available upon request through Scars Publications and Design. Materials from the literary magazines “Children, Churches and Daddies” and “Down in the Dirt” are available on line at http://scars.tv, as are .mp3 files, .ra files, .aif files, .au files, .wav files .mov and mpeg files of Kuypers, both reading her work and singing with three sets of musicians.
Oeuvre is published through Scars Publications and Design, whose publisher is a member/minister through the Universal Life Church. Scars Publications and Design, the logo and associated graphics @ 1979 - 2004. All rights reserved. Kuypers and Scars Publications and Design welcome your comments, tips, compliments or complaints. Direct all comments and suggestions to the e-mail addresses listed above.
The definition of oeuvre (the works of a writer, painter, or the like, taken as a whole) is from the Websters Unabridged 2001 Dictionary.
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and assistance from Freedom & Strength Foundation, Troy Press, Hawthorne Press & Dried Roses Press
printed in the United States of America
writings @ 1979-2004 Janet Kuypers
book design @ 1998-2004 Scars Publications and Design