Hero Tape 1

(Beep. Music fades in)

I saw you in a dream a couple weeks ago during a nap. My girlfriend was sick that day. I had called off of work to take care of her after she called in sick. It was somewhat unnecessary, I didn’t really need to, technically. She’s tough as nails, you know. She is the type of person who can come back from anything. It’s part of what I love about her, but that was also why I was concerned. If she called in sick, then it had to be bad. I was worried. And it was the type of worry that could only be comforted by seeing with my own two eyes that she was okay, and part of that was not sleeping at night, electing to instead focus on the sound of her breathing. But that’s okay, right? At least for me. It’s better than dreaming.

But, that sort of thing catches up to you. Reasons for it aside. At some point, I couldn’t help myself, and as I lay in bed beside her napping form, I too drifted off to sleep.

I saw you once. I’ve seen you a few times, actually. It just didn’t seem relevant before. This dream was different.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I don’t know if this is true, but I’ve heard that you’ve moved offices since we last spoke. But in this dream, you were leaving your old office, walking in the direction you always took when you were leaving campus for the day. Do you remember how we used to run into each other, back when I was a student in your intro class. When we hardly knew each other. When I was still afraid of you. And when you were doing your best to get me to trust you.

It happened at a particular spot, right? Do you remember? You know, I’ve come to think that this particular patch of campus is a place everyone else has forgotten about. The landscaping team especially. But I haven’t. I don’t know if you have. I don’t expect you to remember that spot now that you’ve moved offices. It doesn’t matter. Or it doesn’t matter to me. It’s enough that you remember me long after I left. Long after the last time we spoke. 

I am sorry.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

In the dream, I follow you towards where I always assumed your car was parked. I didn’t think you could see me.  But we only made it a small ways before the church bells start sounding overhead, marking the hour. You stopped and turned towards the sound. And that’s when you saw me out of the corner of your eye.

Most people don’t see me in the dreams. Most people don’t see me at all. But you’ve been the exception. Always.

You turn to me and smile. And you tell me that you always think of me when you hear those bells. At this, a sense of peace washes over me. After all I’ve said and done, or haven’t, your fondness for me hasn’t changed. I’m surprised but very relieved to know that. I have been a handful, okay. And I know you’re about to jump in to reassure me that this isn’t the case, but I think you’d be misunderstanding me. Because I don’t think I have personally done anything wrong. Shocker, I know. But I’ve grown since we met. Now I know that I am not the problem, but that I carry other people’s mistakes on my shoulders. 

In response, I try to shed myself of these things or resolve them on my own, but surprise, I can’t do that. Then I have to go running back to you, begging you to fix this. 

Well, I guess I got there after all, didn’t I? I’m pretty good at making everything my fault. 

But what is definitely my fault is my disappearance. Or disengagement more accurately. Not accurately. That’s how I think of it. I disengaged from the dialogue we had. I don’t know why. I just did it.

Maybe there was part of me that was hoping you would do the work of reaching out, which was not fair of me to ask. But in my defense, I liked the idea or the reassurance that would have come from you reaching out to me. I’m not saying it would have been right or fair to you, but I think I wanted to know that--despite all the problems I had laid at your feet and had caused you--you still wanted to hear from me. I needed to know that. I didn’t know how to ask for it.

Is that where this dream came from? I always loved those bells. I think I told you that.

I know you don’t believe in these dreams, and I’ve always been grateful for your skepticism. It keeps me going. Strangely enough. But please understand. This has hard to ignore. For the both of us. My poor girlfriend.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I want you to meet her, and she wants to meet you too. I’ve told her about everything you’ve done for me. In fact, I tell her pretty much everything. That shouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, I know that’s how relationships work, but it feels like a big deal. It feels like for me that is a very, very significant step, particularly when it comes to these dreams. 

I told her about them. Maybe you don’t think I should, but I felt like I had to. And it felt… like a historic moment. I don’t know. It felt like I was gambling and my arguing that she should leave me simultaneously. I mean what else could she do? But this didn’t scare her. Even seeing it firsthand hasn’t deterred her.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

We met while I was in a string of nightmares. We drew closer to each other while they intensified. And being the hopeless romantic that she is, she thought she could chase them away. She did love me, after all, and love can do anything. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I love being near her. How could I not let her try? She practically moved in that night. And even after the horrors she’s seen, she has stayed. She says she loves me, and she would never abandon me, especially not over this. Especially over something I can’t help. She won’t leave despite what the dreams put her through. Or the things she tells me about. I’m sure she leaves a bunch of stuff out. But even what does tell me is kind of scary.

She says I’m in a trance when it happens. My body is stiff, locked into place with my arms at my sides. It’s not REM sleep; my eyelids aren’t moving. She tries to stir me or shake me or move me in anyway, but my body won’t give. She tries to call out to me, but I won’t respond. 

One night, she woke up to find me sitting up in bed, just as stiff as ever but with my eyes locked dead ahead. And open. She took her cell phone and shined the flashlight into my eyes. But my pupils didn’t react. I didn’t move despite her desperate prodding. Until I did. Until I collapsed, falling onto her lap. I woke up shortly thereafter to see her wide-eyed and pale, saying my name over and over again until it lost meaning to both of us.

She wanted to know what the dream was about, but I wouldn’t tell her. I know you want to know, but I won’t tell you. I’m sorry. I can’t say it. Please understand. I know I shouldn’t keep secrets from her or you. She is my partner, and you have been my rock. But all the same, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And still, she says that this is a storm she will weather. For me. Because she loves me. Her eyes are a window into her soul. I know that this is a standard, throwaway expression, but it’s not like that with her. I mean it. This is true. And when you meet her, I know you will understand. This is the way her eyes are: they show you her heart. Her eyes show me everything. And they say that she loves me.

So why can’t I believe her?

(Music fades out. Beep.)