REM // Van McCann

54. The Answer Is Yes, by the Way

As soon as I opened my eyes, I started removing my mask and probes, swinging my legs over the side of my chair. My movements were sudden, causing Bondy and Larry to sit up in alarm. Once I felt stable enough, I got up and made my way over to my desk.

"I need to remember this," I said, opening my drawer and pulling my journal out. I flipped to an empty page and sat down, grabbing a pen and starting my sketch. I drew a long line across the page for the road and began drawing the house across the street. There's no telling if this house is real or a figment of my imagination but it's better than nothing.

The house across the street was distinct. Even though it was dark out, you could see the façade was made of rich green tile which is unusual seen as blue is the preferred color in Portugal. I stopped drawing momentarily, surprised that Florence hadn't stirred yet. It's been about five minutes since I woke up. She won't be able to stay much longer since I'm no longer there to continue the dream. As if on cue, her eyes fluttered open and she woke up. She looked for me next to her but I wasn't there. It wasn't until she saw me sitting at my desk that she began to relax.

"That's all I had for today unless you have something else you'd like to talk about?" I asked just for good measure. Florence shook her head no. "You can leave your stuff there. I'll clean up when I'm done."

Florence was slow to leave as if wanting to talk more but she knew I was busy trying to recall the dream so she left it at that. She wished the three of us a good evening and walked out, closing the door behind her. Now that she was gone, I tried to focus my attention back on drawing but couldn't. I was curious why she didn't wake up the same time I did. In my haste to remember the house, it didn't occur to me that she stayed under longer.

There's no way she can stay in my dream forever. I'm no longer there so the dream will eventually fall apart and she'll be kicked out. How long that takes varies from person and person and hasn't extensively been studied yet. My mind wandered back to where we had left off. I had committed the house across the street to memory and told her we could wake up. What was she doing while I was gone?

Once my outline of the house was complete, I found my dark green pen and started filling it in with color. Some of the details are off because my memory of the dream quickly fades. That's why it's important to act quickly when you wake up. The first thing you forget are the visuals.

My drawing was complete so I flipped to the next page and started writing down what happened. It was dark out and I saw that the light in her bedroom was on. Her window was open and I looked in and saw her writing at her desk. Her mum went to check in on her and told her to go to bed. She asked about me.

For years, my dreams about Clara went in chronological order. I dreamt about her life in Portugal which was probably my mind trying to visualize what Clara described to me in the letters and on the phone. And then the letters and calls stopped coming so my mind was thinking the worst, making up stories that she was dead. And now I'm dreaming about her being alive again.

Is it awful of me to say dreaming about her dead body is a lot easier than seeing the pain I've inflicted on her? I'd much rather see her body carried away on a stretcher than to see her cry writing to me. I've received numerous letters from her with dried tears. Each letter is a reminder of how I've hurt her.

"I told her if she ever finds a place that feels like home, she can stay. A home can be a person. And I'll tell you I've disappointed and hurt my wife many times and I still do. There's no such thing as a perfect relationship. What's more important is how you work through it."

That's the problem. We never worked it out. How could we when we were thousands of miles away? That's the difference between her dad and I, and the reason why things never worked out between Clara and I.