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Distance As Measure Of Time
As Far Apart As We’re Ever Going To Be
Enjoy the thoughts, they are a sweet drug that crosses time, but alas, not distance.
(He smiled.) We’re as far apart as we’re ever going to be. Though we will meet again at the Stardust Lounge.
Clicking on the light, she wrote it down quickly—as she did whenever particularly unusual dream stuff came up. A pad was always near the bed just in case. She knew it didn’t take long for these things to start becoming transparent and often completely fade as she came up to the surface.
It was a clear and direct message and so she was confident that she got it right. And there was no doubt that it was her old friend Bob talking to her.
She wasn’t one to roll with anything supernatural. Bob was most likely dead by now and he wouldn’t be taking his lunch hour in heaven to come and whisper messages to her while she was in her sleep state.
She didn’t have any friends with Freudian credentials to help her chart how perhaps some memory fragment was nudged into an emotional response because the pillow brushed her face in such a way that reminded her of how Bob would kiss her cheek. Or something like that.
As to visitations from some sort of Collective Unconscious—well, this was just too personal to pull ancestral memory into.
