Puesdo dreams and old memories

Last night, I had a dream.... in my dream I was on some kind of subway or railway, basically some sort of walkway that was used for both walking and motor traffic.

As I'm walking suddenly, this vehicle pulls up next to me, the driver rolls down his window and we engulf each other in a kiss- before I realize it, I recognize who this man is, not from his kiss, although I've urned and felt it before, but from the passenger seating in the car who I see looking away, but who's sketal frame I remember very well- it is after all his younger brother. His look is one of disgust but also of tolerance or understanding but anquish, of familiarity but of how can this be- confusion fills the lines in his face, as he looks at me kissing this man- as I close my eyes I remember his touch, after all it is like the touch of no other- for this is my first "true" love- after all I am kissing my childhood best freind who I just happen to used to be in love with-

or shyt, because I'm dreaming of kissing him, maybe I still am

- I would hope not-

But, I mean after all why would I be dreaming about him? I mean he is "STRAIGHT"- or lets jusy say his proportions on the Kinsey side, don't swing as close or near to men as mine- but still I used to be in love with him- or lets say we used to be in love with each other- or some type of emotion- I mean after all he used to get mad when people wanted to show me some attention- and yes he knew, knew I was gay- not so sure he knew I was "gay". I mean what should I have said I'm a "fag" and I love you and if you didn't love pussy so much and if you weren't worried about what people were thinking, maybe we could be together-

AHHHHH....

At any rate, why would I be dreaming of this man? I mean we haven't talked in almost what like close to four years and suddenly in the middle of the night you come back into view, into the wrinkles of my brain to greet me with a kiss. That's some weird shyt, but after all for the last 2 weeks or so, as I'm coming closer and closer to crying myself to sleep, right now I haven't been able to let myself, but I think it's inevitable that I will, I'm reverting to the once "relationship oriented" brotha that I used to be- the empty sex is kinda old now, and I'm finding more and more even when I go to "cruise" spots I try to keep seeing the guys, which is insane- I mean like they say, where u meet them, is where u will leave them-

At any rate, this morning after having this man on my brain and my body for that matter, after all we kissed, I started to look for his phone number or to call my moms and ask for it, but then I thought to myself, niggah u are really crazy! You will not call this man, this fool who used and took you for granted because he was more straight than you and could disconnect from feeling for you, but use you to take care of his triffling ass! This man who used to and still will compete with you and the only area he can or will ever be able to beat u in his "traditional" sexuality- I mean after all wasn't he the one who was always fucking me??? And what kind of craziness is that?

After a train wreck of thoughts cascaded through the centers of my brain it with tick, tick, tick, BOOM! It all made since, the reason I have a problem with sex- with objectification, with anal sex, (the reason I cry and not in a good way when someone tried to fuck me, not to mention I was once upon a time *gasp* molested)- with oral sex, with kissing, with being held, with my feelings, with married men, with this so called DL, self phobic, hatefull ass negroes, with these so called straight guys who have girlfriends but who want to sleep- but not love me, I guess afterall this one person add along a hateful father, distructfull mother, and bingo you understand me in such a clearer light- yep, my first 3 loves are all idiots and you wonder why I'm fucked up! Well there you go- you got it right there. crazier than a bedbug and hopefully I can cry myself to sleep tonight so I want have to masturbate myself into oblivion and can get to sleep before 2:00 or 3:00 AM. This is why these old memories are scorching through my thoughts with the intensity of a NASCAR drive aiming for the finish line- this is why after all these years I've learned to hug and hold myself because godddammit, right now, no one else wants to-

add on the fact, that as the thoughts of my big 30 come more into realization- the closer my fatherhood starts, the closer I want to see lil emotionalbrotha, to hold him, to kiss him, to let him lay on my chest and see me-

I see his face, I hear his heart, beat I look in those eyes, how wise he seems,

when he is old enough, i will show him America.. and he will ride on the wheels of a dream

- excuse the Brian Stokes Mitchell Ragtime excerpts - I couldn't help myself

At any rate, got me to thinking, I remember when we were younger we would wake up early on Sunday morning, cook breakfast, shower and go fishing- it was all innocent & simple fun- familiarity with someone who I learned to love, or maybe one day it just happened- I loved him, I remember how the sky used to look, the water, the fishing hook, the look in his eyes as we baited the hooks, and just sat breathing freely away from the walls which engulfed my mothers hair, and my brothers drawls on the floor, or the sneaker which dangled between two lil boys. I remember it was on one of these days as we sat and watched the sun come up, as we sat on the rocks, waiting for the fish to bite, I remember the very words (well some of them anyway, my memory is good, but not that good) that brought upon one of my many pseudo dreams- as he spoke in a very childlike but innocent voice, "yo when we have kids whoever has a son first has to name the baby after his best friend" Yep. And in two years hopefully I will be on that journey however, my son will never be named after the indivivual in which I had that conversation with, my child will never even know that man, because after all and even though last in my dream, he kissed me- I don't know that man. And honestly, the only man I do know is myself and sometimes even he is a mystery.