walls and fruit

I once had a dream, it would be about four months ago now, maybe six. In my dream I was back home in Texas, a home to which it is unlikely I shall ever return. My parents were still married. But more than that, they were happy. They looked like they did in a picture I remember of them, where they have their arms around each other. In dreams you have insight into things that you couldn't possibly know by the empirical evidence. I knew that dad was healthy and mom wasn't worried. Joyce was there too, and she was happy, unpierced, whole. And I was excited.

Any minute, I knew, a friend would be visiting me from school. I ran back and forth between my room and Joyce's trying to decide what to wear. On my third time through the family room, passing the large window that faced out over the backyard, I noticed the apple tree. I could see only the top branches but on them were many large red apples, beautiful fruit. Stunned I stopped and went to look. I had remembered that tree not bearing any fruit. When I got next to the window and looked down I saw that the bottom branches held only a scanty supply of withered pale apples. I thought to myself, nobody would even know all this lovely fruit is up here unless they went through the trouble of climbing the tree.

Soon I was interrupted from these musings and told to wash the dog. My mom was always paranoid about the dog being clean when guests arrived. I took Emma to the tub, but she was so old that she couldn't hold her head above the water, and she was scared. I climbed in and comforted her, holding her as I washed. When I was finished she was clean but I was a mess. I started crying and ran to my room. On the way I noticed that the walls, which I had hitherto thought whole, were under construction, and that the house was being pulled apart.

In my room I wanted to be alone, but my parents and Joyce followed me in. They were different. They were as they are now. My dad was old and sad. He had on his wedding ring. My mom was stressed and her hair was short. She did not have her ring on. Joyce had pink hair, but the most shocking difference in her was how small she suddenly looked despite her height not changing. I tried to send them away.

"There's someone here to see you," my mom said. I knew who it was. "I can't let him see me like this!" I cried. "How can I offer him this?" I gestured to my wet clothes and soggy hair, my room and family. Inexplicably I thought of the fruit. "He'd probably only see the bottom branches anyway." I was lamenting this when I heard a voice speak quietly from the doorway. "Hello Friend." I looked up and smiled, and then woke up.

I thought of this dream randomly today when I was thinking of Ted. Last night we were talking about friends, as a title. He laughed at me, telling me that I am utterly indifferent to people I don't know until one day I award them the title friend, and then I love them. He grinned, At least it happened early on with me. I'm not really mean, am I? I asked him. I don't mean to be. You know what you're doing, he answers bluntly. You hold them off with a cold shoulder until they can prove themselves to you, and with encouragement like that, of course everyone perseveres in the attempt. He doesn't seem to think this is bad, only mockable. Mostly, he understands exactly why I do it. As he once said to Ashley in my presence, it's so interesting to see exactly where her walls go up when you prod, isn't it?

Ted is not the only one to notice my walls. I was dumped by a boy back in high school who complained I had too may walls up. Of me he remarked, her personality is a puzzle, but I don't even have the pieces. They're locked in a vault somewhere I can't find with a combination I don't know. I'm just worried that once I put it together it's not going to be anything beautiful, that'll it'll be one big blank blue board. (at least he had good alliteration).

Kevin complained of it, as did Jon. But what none of them saw was how easily other people could get to me. Matt was to Kevin (the first time) what Bryan was to Kevin (the second time) and what Ted was to Jon. They were the ones who knew me and didn't understand how the latter couldn't. Ted says that they were inhibited by their investment. But I did not care to understand the reason; all I knew was that my friends knew me and my boyfriends didn't, that my friends loved me and my boyfriends liked me, that my friends stay and boyfriends leave.

You can ask April and she will say of me, she's not as tough or as mean as she likes to pretend. My walls are really not so threatening. They are made of cornstarch and water. If you poke too fast, too hard, you will rebound off of them. But under a soft touch I will melt. Boyfriends look at the walls and get afraid, anxious and demanding. Friends don't even look at them; they look at me, and with their love the walls come down on their own.

Perhaps the title FRIEND is given to those gladiators who can bring down the walls.