Impending Divorce

by Meghann
(Cambridge, MA)

I've been separated for 6 months and am trying to come to terms with the fact that he hasn't changed his mind. He still does not want to be married to me. I had this dream last night that made me feel better.

The Pirate Ship Dream
We were traveling together, without knowing it, the little boy and me. We walked through foreign streets looking for signposts. He was always in my peripheral vision if he was not right by my side, as I was in his. But we did not speak or directly acknowledge one another. Many people passed us by on foot or bicycle. Their pace was quicker, more determined; they were natives who knew the terrain from long experience or else they had found their signposts. We watched them carefully trying to see if there was a route we had missed.

I was trying to reach the Pirate Ship. It was a well-know attraction. Three tall masts with full rigging moored in the bay, accessible to all who could reach it. I thought the best way would be to get on the beach and walk down it toward the bay. Then I would have the Ship in my sights as I looked for the way to reach it. But the beach was not easy to get to. None of the roads led to the beach. They ended just short of it, turning to run parallel. The houses on these streets took up the beach, so that it was not visible beyond them. But I knew it was there, I could hear it, and smell it and feel it. But I did not own any of these houses so this way was closed to me.

I followed other smaller streets and paths, always keeping the beach to my right. At least I was going in the right general direction. I hoped that as I got closer I would find better signs. In the gas station convenience store I noticed him again; the little boy with brown hair looking at the folded maps for sale. I realized that I had incorporated him into my journey. He was a member of my karass; one whose path was unintentionally nearly identical to my own. When I picked up the map with the Pirate Ship he turned and looked at me. “I thought that maybe you were going there.” We exchanged theories and strategies on how to get to the Ship. It made me feel good knowing that I was not the only one struggling. The Pirate Ship was such a popular destination I had thought for sure that the way would be well marked. Was I the only one not finding it?

While the map was helpful, and it did have the icon of the Ship, it did not include the whole trail. The map’s left margin was before the Pirate Ship and so it left off with only the icon and a lame arrow. I began searching the rack of maps for the one we needed. It was not there. As we left the gas station a tunnel was visible. People walked in and out of it, brushing their hands against the velvet ropes on each side designating the walkway. The tunnel was pointed in the right direction. It may go underground, but it led toward the beach of the bay where the Ship was moored. I walked toward the opening, but it wasn’t right. Where was the boy? He had been a constant in my consciousness, even if I had not been aware of it until now. The absence shocked me, like plunging into freezing water. “Where are you going?” I asked. “This is the way it showed on the map.” He was unconvinced. He wanted to find the other half of the map to be sure. And then he was gone.

“But this must be the right way.” I thought. “I will wait for him. Surely he will have to pass this way again to get to the Pirate Ship.” But even as I thought it I knew I was wrong. I could not wait for him. He might find another way and then I would be waiting here for nothing. Or if he did return, he would find me angry that I had to wait so long; furious because I could have been to the Ship already. There would be no joy in that reunion.

Our paths could cross again; after all we are trying to get to the same place. Or maybe we will meet there. There is no guarantee. We may never travel side by side again. The only option was to walk into the tunnel, and hope.

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