a barn of candles

coming off my dreams of evan, i dreamed of my wedding. i was sitting in a church wondering if i would think of evan on my wedding day (obviously that was answered) and wondering who on earth i could ever agree to marry. in the dream i remember thinking it odd that i couldnt remember the groom. it was dark in the barn. not the type of place i would have guessed i'd marry in but at the same time perfect. old, dank, dark, mystical. i remember wondering why no one was coming to congratulate me. never occurred to me that it was strange for the bride to be out sitting in the audience. i remember feeling nervous and odd and alone when someone came and sat next to me and started singing. and i knew instantly. will-evidently-my fiance, just made things click and i remembered.

the important part is that my father was there. thats not at all unusual. i see him all the time in my dreams. more so than is to be expected. in fact that's what got me going tonight. i am drunk in my room, on my bed and some blurry memory of the sheltered candles lighting his face made me think of him. i realized how often i actually do dream of him. i dream of him more now than when he was ever alive. in fact, i see him more now than when he was alive. it is still odd to me, years later, that he is dead. i have to remind myself often that he chose to die. then i feel isolated. then i feel confused. and i feel like i have to put up a brace front.

tonight i went to find him, the traces of him left alive on the internet. tragically, again, there is more there now than when he was alive. i have almost no photos. i have one blurry, faded video and a few memories but almost nothing tangible. the internet though, it has his phone number, it has his address (i never had his address) and it tells of his rank in the army, of the places he was stationed. as i read it all, i begin to wonder how much i never knew. i always presumed he had affairs, sometimes i thought he had other children, at the end i thought him to be gay. i dont really care to be honest. thinking about it makes me feel even more distance from anyone im related to. but at night, in the dark, i start to wonder why i dream of someone i never knew. i start to wonder about the coffin he lies in. about the men buried next to him in the desert sand. i wonder about the things he saw and the things he felt.

i wonder about when it all started. the first lies, the last lies. i wonder about if he loved anyone. i see him all alone in every single dream, like even in a second chance he can't quite figure out how to join anyone. and i see him watching, i see him drinking, i see him lost. and i see the small flicker of the candle burn out and i see him lost to the shadows, to remain until i fall asleep again and grant him, i'm sure, the only daylight he has seen in 40 yeas.

he would have to cry at a wedding. he would have to leave church early. he could never accept communion. im pretty sure he never wore a wedding ring. although i am positive he carried around a tattered photo of me from when i was seven until the day he died. in his entire life i dont think he ever managed to start life. so he disappeared.