I would’ve rather just had a dream I was on the street a few feet behind the beautiful Jennifer Aniston, and when she turned around it actually turned out to be Kid Rock. I would wake up relieved—and when the adrenaline wore off, a little confused about my sexuality. But at least that I could shove under the rug.
Not when you wake up sad.
It’s different because even if you hate metaphorical shit, this is undeniably meaningful. You now know you want what you had in your dream because of how depressed you are to have it taken away.
I was just a pair of eyes, as you are in dreams. Therefore, maybe I could’ve been the one to have the kid. I could’ve been a woman. If not, I have no idea where this kid came from. But I guess those are the details that aren’t too important. You never knew what the fuck fast food joint Bella and Edward went to that day. They’ll have you believe they just never ate, even though you knew they did—but it just wasn’t important.
Now, you might say, but Seth, Edward didn’t eat fast food, he’s a vampire, he drank blood, and to that, I’d say: shut the fuck up! None of this matters and that’s the point.
We had some sort of fling, some sort of accidental pregnancy. I’m not sure how I knew this, but it certainly wasn’t the vibe. The vibe was like we had, by chance, been picked to become parents—two strangers.
I knew my kid was coming to see me. He had already been born, one of those kids with full heads of hair. He also had big brown eyes. Smiled a lot. I had to be separated from him for some reason, for awhile. I didn’t know why, but all I could think about was how excited I was.
Whatever had happened in the past, I had this worked through sense of abandonment and independence. I was a single parent. Me and the other guy, we would be nothing more than civil caretakers of the baby. I would let him live his life because that was what he wanted. Now, I just wanted to see my kid.
It happens fast.
I’m in a Chipotle with a bunch of women around me that I’ve never seen before. It looks like a Nashville bachelorette party. My kid comes in, looking like a little baby bunny, in a roller or something like it. I see it through the crowd.
The father comes in with a friend from the other direction. They come towards me, and I make sure not to look at the dad and appear excited to see the friend instead. Family friend. I light up and ask him how he is. I want to say something to the father, but restrain. I restrain acknowledging him at all because it would all be too painful, to be there with him at all but not completely.
But this act all happens in the second before he comes over to me without hesitation, arms spread. It looks like Keanu Reeves. He’s wearing a deep green shirt and black jacket. He has hair like Keanu and a gnarly scar across his face—but he’s a little darker than Keanu, face a little wider. He says my name, whatever it was, kisses me, and wraps his arms around me. I’m caught off guard, but return it, and everything I felt before, all that worry, washes away, and it feels like we’re right back to where we started. He has quickly shattered whatever walls I had up, making it all seem like some stupid little game I couldn’t even believe I was playing.
And I wonder why we can’t be together. Or why we had to be separated at all. But still, my instincts say all, and they’re telling me it just can’t be.
He still held on. I was waiting for him to retract, but he wouldn’t. He really cared. I lay my head on his shoulder. A woman behind me and Keanu, in the midst of this, whispers, “He’s such a nice guy…”
My face must’ve been deep in my armpits when I dreamt this, because the smell of them reminds me of him.
I say something to someone behind him, it could’ve been the super fan. He pulls away and says “Hm?” I almost say “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you,” but don’t because it feels like my heart is broken—why was he so attentive? All the sudden somebody came into my life and cared.
And the thing is he ignored everyone around us except me. That’s what I needed—not because of ego but because I always felt like I was surrounded by zombies. What do you do when you’re feeling that way? Family. They are the ones who are on that life raft with you through the river. Everyone is insane except family.
I always thought I was more primal than most people. Not because I was the type of guy to always tell you how alpha I was. It wasn’t in cool ways either. It was like, I was more afraid of heights than most people, and fire. I never thought about how much having a kid would make this flare up. But it really did, because all I could think about when I thought about my kid was murder. Because of how protective I was of him—murder.
I think this is all because of how much I hate bad parenting. And that—that is because of a bad upbringing. I’ve never wanted anything terrible to happen to another child because of how broken I was from it. Because I was in my twenties and still didn’t know where to put my hands. And this is why I wanted kids so bad. Doing it right would be the final process in healing.
This is when I wake up sad. I come to in my bed. It’s full sized. I regret this and wish I stuck to twins like I did my whole life because now it’s all empty and I just sleep on the edge of the right side anyway. Waking up in my apartment, and haven’t been here long enough to have made any good friends. Just the fruit flies infesting the kitchen, but they won’t talk to me. The cockroaches visibly hide from me when I come around. They will literally hide behind a chair leg and pretend I can’t see them on the other side.
I wake up with no family. Still alone on a life raft. Still surrounded by zombies.
I never cared about having a family. I thought I could do everything alone. Just a few months ago I didn’t even know if I wanted to get married and have a kid. Now I know that’s probably going to need to happen one day. It was only until after I realized how crazy most people around me are. Your own friends who you’ve known for years, but will turn on you if you have a different opinion. People who are willing to do anything to be cool. People who wear Doc Martens to seem alternative but have twenty other friends who do the same thing, and get them from Spencer’s instead of finding them, abandoned, in a graveyard like they want you to think.
People who actually think Megan Markle is a revolutionary. People who still think SNL is funny. People who have the world burning down around them and still manage to smile—not in a brave way, but because they genuinely think everything is fine.
I needed a circle who I know wouldn’t stab me in the back with something crazy. This is clown world. And while it’s kind of hilarious, to constantly be surrounded by clowns and nobody else, was taking years off my life. Oh yes, I needed somebody who could understand.
So I do what a lot of guys would do and hug my pillow in the fetal position—but I’m not the kind of guy to give in a get an anime body pillow. No, I will get up, and I will get out there and keep searching. I will make friends, and I will one day only be on an island, but only when I buy and expensive ticket to go there myself and vacation in the sand—me, and my family, who’s out there somewhere, and will welcome me with open arms without me having to earn it, and I’ll finally understand what the hell unconditional love is.
But just five more minutes.