her and me. the pain of separation.

I have been waiting for weeks for a dream that is worth remembering. I remember a little bit of a dream last week involving my best friend and a green hat but not enough to write about.
Last night I had a dream that hurt me emotionally and it was about this same friend. This friend is like a sister to me, she is my family.

I dreamed we were in a smoky bar, the music was loud and we had to shout to be heard. She and I were with some other people whom I do not know in real life. We were both drinking heavily and I was acting like a bit of an asshole. I upset her by talking about something private in mixed company and she decided to leave. I begged her not to, telling her not to drive drunk while I grabbed for her elbow. She yanked her arm out of my grasp and attempted to stomp out the door, weaving slightly. I sighed, giving up, figuring that I would call her and apologize later. I turned and began talking to our friends again and that was when one of them pointed out to me that she really should not have been driving and that I should go after her. I panicked, running out of the hot smoky bar and out into the cool damp night, glancing over to where her car should have been. It was then that I saw her silver taurus down the road in the distance...again, weaving slightly. I ran after the ghost of her taillights, frantically believing that I would catch her, that she might see me, sense me in the rearview mirror and turn around, understanding my concern, forgiving me my stupidity. I ran until I saw the red light disappear over the horizon and then I collapsed onto a nearby bus bench, wondering what to do next. I fell asleep(passed out drunk) and then woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I opened my eyes and found that I was in my bed. Confused I reached for the phone and opened it to the sound of her mothers voice calmly telling me that my friend had died. She said that nobody knew how, that she had just disappeared and was presumed dead. I began to wail, knowing that it was my fault, that I had done wrong by not being able to catch her before she drove. I felt out of control and only vaguely heard her mother telling me to calm down. I heard her say that I should come over to get some of her daughters things because she could not possibly be expected to deal with them. I agreed and decided to ride my bike over to her house in the city but as I neared her residence, I began to feel a fluttery panic in my chest as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, my head felt light and I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. I looked up and saw that I was already at her moms house and that there was no turning back because she was in the front yard, her back to me while cutting her flowers. she turned to me and waved, gesturing me inside. My body immediately felt heavy and I just wanted to be alone with my impending grief but I knew that it was not possible because I had a responsibility to her mother. a responsibility to take care of the things that my friend had left behind. I walked into the house and there in the front hall lay a pile of my sisters things. Her paintings, her clothing, a black, fluffy jacket that she wears every winter, a pair of pants I used to laugh at in high school and above all, a stack of unfinished sketches for paintings. My mind focused on the sketches, feeling so many things at once. Feeling the complete weight of my loss. I would never be able to talk to her about what thoughts inspired these sketches, I would never be able to see what her lovely dark mind would come up with next. I would never be able to call her, never be able to laugh with her, paint with her, hug her, kiss her, know her. The emptiness was overwhelming and the feeling of vertigo became unbearable. I sank to the floor, my head in my hands, images of her flashing through my mind while I felt as though I might throw up. I could hear her moms voice somewhere above me, asking me if maybe I could do "something" with these unfinished paintings. maybe paint on them, make them whole. the idea of trying to face the completion of these paintings alone, without her was so frightening that I began to cry. I felt my face getting hot and flushed and the tears were wetting my cheeks while somehow managing to ground me back into the reality of my pain. I suddenly felt as though I was in a movie, the sound of "return to oz" by the scissor sisters swelling in the backround, my sadness a complete physical and material thing tugging me to open my eyes and realize that I was in my bed, that I was awake and that I had just experienced an unbelievably real nightmare that had left my cheeks wet with tears, my throat tight with emotion.
needless to say, the beginning of my day was dark and confusing.
Not the best thing to write about but I needed to. I needed to feel that sadness again so that I could evaluate just how much I love her.
My best friend.
I am so thankful that I have somebody like her.