Where are you?

I've been thinking about my dreams lately. My dreams have always been vivid and bizarre, but right now they are really striking me. This may be simple because I'm currently well rested and am sleeping as much as I can stand (though not always straight in a row).

Last night I dreamed that I been just woken after some sort of ten-year hibernation, which for some reason meant that I had to hang out with some lesbians talking about the photo book their talented friend had made of photos of them after they had all been in Usher's wedding, which was held during a timeout in a baseball game, out on the diamond with the players still on the field ("I'm not a player, I just crush alot..."). The book was ridiculously thick and had been simply titled "L", which one of them told me the producers of The L Word didn't like, but you can't copyright a whole letter, right? I just wanted to know where exactly I was and when i got to go somewhere else. I found my computer and was able to check my messages, and my inbox was full of messages from all kinds of people I wanted to hear from, but one stood out. My Liz had sent me a picture. No message, just a picture of her smiling and laying on a couch in a loose yellow dress. She used to avoid wearing yellow because her skin was so fair she said it didn't look good on her, but it did in this picture. I was preparing to send her a picture in return and more came from her. Her sitting, her again on the couch with a couple of friends, always smiling.

The pictures had that sort of over saturated color that pics from the 70's sometimes have. Before I could respond with my picture, stumbling trying to decide what kind of picture to send- old or shoot a new one, silly or just smiling, flattering or plain?-, she showed up at the door. What had sort of been a room in a mall like supercomplex was now a converted version of my grandparents old living room, and I invited her in and we hugged and began talking immediately. We stumbled over each other trying to explain the last few years that we have been apart (that whole ten year hibernation thing sort of evaporated like things do in dreams). Nothing really that we talked about was all that important, but I remember feeling so relieved to have found my friend again.

When I said "My Liz" earlier, I mean the Liz who I was friends with in highschool and became better friends with in college. I called her my Liz to distinguish between the other Liz's in my life, who became known as Mason's Liz, Lisa's Liz, and Sculpture Liz, each according to how I came to know them. Once Sculpture Liz took offense and told me she was going to make t-shirts which said, "I'm my own Liz" for all of them. I never meant to offend and don't mean to now. If I have ever met anyone who was their own person it would be her.

The dream was remarkable in how comfortable it was just sitting and talking and realizing how much I've missed her. I hope I can find her again.