I called Lil on Sunday night after returning to campus.  I hoped that a week to cool off would give us both some perspective.  I also hoped that it would give me something to say.

            “Hello?”  She answered.

            “I’m sorry about the other week.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.  I could have chosen my words better.”

            “Like?”

            “Like I could have said thank you for your generosity.  I appreciate it.  But I also need to make my own way, and this is it.  I hope you can respect that I don’t want anyone’s help.”

            “So you’re going to let pride get in the way of being with me?”

            I could hear the anger in her voice.

            “No.  I’m saying you deserve someone great.  And I won’t feel great unless I get there my own way.  As a compromise, I thought I could take you out Thursday instead.”

            “You have class on Friday.”

            “I’m an A student.  I don’t think you need to worry.”

            “Meet me at the subway at seven.”

***

 

I spotted Angelina in the library, sitting at a big table with several books, industriously studying on a Sunday night.  I sat down across from her, tilting my head sideways to catch her eye and break her concentration with a wry grin.

            “You’re back.  How was work?”

            “The usual.  How were things here?”

            “We had a movie night, and went dancing on Saturday.  You missed a good time.”  She teased.

            “Uh huh.  Listen, uh, do you know anything about dreams?”

            She blinked.  “Never been asked that before.  There’s the standard psychology response, dreams being recycled data from our subconscious that’s not being addressed in our waking life.  Some religions hold that dreams are divine messages.  Why?”

            “Just that I had a strange one, and I don’t know what to think of it.”

            “Oh.  Well, when a dream seems important to the dreamer, it makes it even more significant to their lives.  Either it’s something you’re trying to tell yourself, or it’s an important communiqué from God.”  Angelina almost laughed.  “What did you dream?”

            “I dreamed that you told me ‘sometimes friends hold the keys to the doors in our souls.’  Any special insight?”

            She considered it for a moment.  “Not specifically.  Maybe it just means to pay attention to what your friends have to say.  You might learn something.”

            I shrugged.

            “I don’t have any ‘special insight’,” she said.  “Dreams are supposed to be more symbolic than real, anyway.”

            I nodded.  For the rest of the day I wandered around, trying to think.  I told myself that if I unravelled the symbols, I’d understand the dream.  Unfortunately, no easy answers came.

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