Parking Lots Appear to Be A Theme

Dream
May 27, 2013

I walk through a parking lot, some of the cars are familiar -- I am wearing a skirt, or maybe a dress, with purple on it, and a cardigan -- Fancy, with somewhere to go -- I see your car and need to put my purse on the back seat for later -- I start to open the side sliding door and you appear, almost materialize from the front of the hood, a disturbingly strange expression on your face -- contorted, odd, not you -- I can tell you find it odd I am putting my purse in your car -- Makes sense to me, especially after the other day --

"You can't use your car?" you ask, uncharacteristically defensive -- you are so kind other times --

"It's not here, I need this for later," I respond -- While this is true, my other car is nearby and I'm sure you notice -- the embarrassment seeps in, feel my face get hot -- You have the strangest grin, a huge toothy smile -- Are you hiding something? -- Gripping the back of your pants and facing me, even when you begin to walk away --

"What's that smile for?" I inquire -- You shake your head, still with maniacal grin, trying to cover a spot on your pants -- "Did you sit in something?"

"I don't know what you mean," --

Confused and disoriented, I leave my purse -- Did i miss something? -- An oddness settles in my belly -- the sky looms dark and painted, closing in on me --

 I wander through the lot, cars and cars, wondering, waiting -- the sense that leaving my purse is a catastrophic idea -- He doesn't want you in any part of his life -- It's not okay to do those kinds of things anymore --

You are at the other end of the lot on a patch of grass taking photos with the rest of the party -- Blues and greens, and bow ties -- They line you up with the others, positioning just so, all the while you attempt to disguise what I have now deduced is the puddle of water you sat in that soaked your pants -- I watch for a few moments, wondering if you see me, knowing acutely you don't ever think twice -- 

I turn around to find your car and it has moved -- start to run and feel frantic, searching, yearning -- I know where it is, I just have to get there, just have to finish this and be done with it -- I see it across the lot away from other cars, underneath concrete beams and a door -- you are sitting in the passenger seat talking on the phone -- I approach the window and gesture "I'm sorry to bug you" -- Your face reads irritation, my heart sinks into my feet -- I realize now, for the first time, it will never be the same --  I open the side door, grab my purse as fast as possible, knowing I crossed some imperceptible boundary -- I feel awful, helpless --