On Longing

I was with another, unidentified female in an industrial urban area, when we heard a cry for help. Someone was being beaten up, and I knew exactly who it was: someone I'd had a pretty intense crush on a couple years back (in waking life). Let's call him P. I really wanted to go along with my friend to help P., and hoped he would be glad to see me.

We had to cross a gully or chasm or river of some kind, and there he was, near a water tower. I can still see the Xs and white lattice stairs of the structure in my mind. In fact, the whole scene was spare and suggestive, like a set for a Beckett play. We got to where P. was and his face was turned away. My friend made him guess the name of the person she'd brought along and he (eventually) guessed my name. I felt so much love for him as we wiped the blood off his face and brought him away. There is a kind of longing felt only in dreams, and this particular dream was fueled by that feeling.