Revelations

At 4:30am, he suddenly rises from bed and mumbles words I can't quite make out as he heads for the restroom. Upon his return, he lays down and the words continue to roll off his tongue and straight to the back of my head. I know some heavy philosophical ideas are circulating in his mind.

He thinks that if the real came for me, I’d turn it away.
He thinks that I bury my light under a bushel. He’s always making references to Jesus.
He thinks that a part of me wants to be normal and says, So sad. Sad. Sad.
He thinks I listen to my family too much at the expense of my self.
He thinks I don’t want truth bad enough.

I hear Muse's Map of the Problematique play in my head now.

Life will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can’t we see
That when we bleed, we bleed the same

I can’t get it right
Get it right
Since I met you

I try not to say anything. I want sleep to come back and reclaim me but it doesn’t just yet.

He says, Who knows, maybe we’ll have to part ways one day. My head feels warm, my eyes focused on the wall. This is one of many things he won’t remember having said in the morning.

I’m not sure what shocks me most. Is it maybe, part ways, or one day?

He gets this way when he’s on a mission.
He feels the need to be preachy.
He forgets he isn’t the only one searching.
He’s looking for the real in the normal.
I’m looking for some kind of normal in the real.

He forgets what he's learned of me.
He forgets how deep and how far a woman’s heart goes and what dreams and secrets are trapped within its chambers.
He forgets how strength has shaped me, how it shields me.
He forgets how he’s supported in his quest for truth.

And all this…because I fell asleep during the movie, Meetings with Remarkable Men.

But then again, I understand he talks in his sleep. And in this sleep, he
says things he fears in himself.

So I'm relieved when sleep comes back for me knowing he's just projecting.

Yes, he's just projecting...