I had a dream last night. Driving to work, I suddenly saw the images flood into my head and remembered the details. It was the most vivid dream I have had in months. The sun shone brightly on a summer day. I was driving behind a motorcycle. The driver did a wheelie, pulling the bike up almost completely perpendicular to the road. A metallic light blue Volkswagon Passat in the oncoming lane ran into the biker while he was mid-wheelie. I slammed on the breaks, swinging my car over into the right hand lane and stopping in front of the curb. I looked down and to the left and nearly threw up. The motorcyclist's helmet had disappeared; he lay there motionless, in a contorted manner so grusome, I could barely look. His body was three or four feet from my car, underneath the driver's front wheel of the Volkswagon. His legs were limp, and is upper body was bent in half over top of himself. He wasn't bent at the waist though, he was bent at the bottom of his ribcage, his upperbody laying on top of his lower abdomen and hipbone. I stared on in horror as the middle aged man with reddish colored hair in the VW leaned his head out the window, looked as if he was going to be ill, and then backed his car up off of the body.
I don't know the meaning of this dream. I don't want to know. Last night was bad news, so maybe it's linked to that. After I got out of my night class, I started to pull out of the parking lot only to see Ryan pulling in. I flashed my brights at him and he told me to loop back into the parking lot. I turned around and proceeded to drive down three or four rows of cars before finding his. We both got out of our cars and smoked a cigarette together. He invited me to with him and Rob. He called Rob from my phone, got the okay, and that was settled. He made me call the movie theaters too to see what time Diary of the Dead is playing. I listened to a menu longer than the New Testament before Ryan decided it was too cold to stand there, turning into pilars of ice in the parking lot. I got into my car, hung up on the robotic voice, and headed to Ryan and Rob's place.
Rob greeted me at the door, smiling. "I'm making chicken with saffron sauce." I followed him into the kitchen. I skinned three carrots, boiled green beans for ten minues, and sauteed carrots in butter. We added in turnips to the carrots, and cooked those down in the butter too. We threw all the vegetables together, and rob popped the chicken in the oven. That's when I gave up and resigned to the couch to smoke cigarettes and gently nurse the class of sauvignon blanc that Rob had poured me. Rob finished prepping the saffron sauce. Ryan got home at quarter to ten.
"The house smells wonderful," he proclaimed, wide-eyed at the front door. Rob ran into the kitchen, pulled out three beautiful plates, and laid a big red lettuce leaf on each one. He heaped a mound of the mix of turnips, carrots, string beans, and peas. Onto that he laid a layer of thinkly sliced chicken, and topped it all with a white sauce made of saffron and shallots. It was fabulous. All three of us sat on the couch and devoured it while Linda Blair hosted "Scariest Places on Earth" on the Travel Channel. The midget woman still did the voices inbetween scenes describing events and places being toured. "That bitch is still alive?" Ryan spat out.
After dinner we all showered Rob with compliments on his great success. He beamed with joy. He wants to go back to culinary school, so tonight was not only a nice dinner for Ryan, but a test for himself to see if he could do it and do it better than just good. It was great. I'll give him that. Ryan grabbed the remote and proceeded to flip through the Verizon OnDemand section. I was in the mood for a really good suspense/horror movie. We would watch a preview that looked fantastic, and I'd say something like, "Oooh, that looks good!" and Ryan would say something to the extent of, "Nah, I think I'll pass." He'd make looks of disapproval and switch back to the main menu over and over again. He finally decided that at 10:00PM it was already too late to start a movie.
"I wonder who's at the Pocket tonight." He didn't take his eyes off the television. Personally, I hadn't planned on showing face last night. I had made up my mind that it was going to be a dinner and a movie kind of night. "I really want to see Lenny and Rob. I haven't seen either of them in so long."
I didn't say too much. I kept my damn mouth shut. Finally Ryan broke down close to 10:25PM and asked Rob if he wanted to go, and asked me too. I shook my head yes, but it really would've been fine either way to me. I knew Ryan wanted to go though, so there was no use stopping it.
Ryan turned to Rob, "Get dressed."
Rob to Ryan, "I am dressed."
Ryan to Rob, "Then put your shoes on."
Ryan was getting irritated with Rob because when I told Rob to get ready, he flipped into bar mode and reared up to go. Ryan acted like he'd been begging Rob for weeks to go to the bar, him never wanting to go, and then me telling him one time changed his mind.
"I'm going to go outside and start the car." I had no intention of watching the apocalypse unfold inside Ryan's den. They emerged together after about ten minutes, both winding the way through the parking lot with lit cigarettes in hand. I could just see their dark forms and the burning cherries of the cigarettes. They flicked them both and got in the car.
The bar was dead, but Rob and Lenny were there, so Ryan was good with that. I ran to Lenny, hugged him, and set my jacket on the back of a chair.
"Well fine, don't say hi to me!" Rob kidded. I went over and gave him a hug, but he pushed me off. I grabbed him and leached myself onto him. He let me hug him and we laughed. Rob and Lenny didn't stay long. They usually ride together because Lenny isn't too fond of driving. I was drinking the same kind of beer that Rob had been drinking. Before he walked out, I set my beer down on the bar to go move my coat to my newly freed chair. I watched Rob pick up my beer, look at it once, and then pound it. He drank the rest of it. I didn't say anything. I jokingly told Frank and he gave me another one, not charging. I tipped him nearly a 50% tip
The bar started to fill with a couple new faces. Two of those faces were that of two underage guys from North Carolina who just moved to the area. Frank told us to go introduce ourselves. I would've done it, but Ryan said, "No," shooting a disapproving look at me, "We don't do that." He turned to Rob, "Do you want to play pool?"
"Not really."
"Come on," and Ryan led him, quarters in hand, to the pool table next to where the Carolina boys were sitting. Rob and Ryan played each other. The game was close. One would win by default, and they'd pretend they didn't see each other scratch on the 8, or accidently sink it in. The two boys laughed as they overheard our conversations. Ryan did introduce himself, Rob, and me. We ended back at the other side of the bar. The fatter of the two boys came and sat by Ryan for a while. Frank was talking to us, and at first, I thought he was just coming to get Frank's attention, but he stayed. I could get a better look at him now. He was wearing a black belt with silver studs on it, and a pink belt underneath it. He was crosseyed, and he had petite tits. As far as I was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary. Frank and Ryan and I carried on, this guy listened. He left after a while. Ryan turned to me with his paranoid face on. "They're talkin' shit."
"Who?" I asked.
"Those two guys. That one just went over there and said 'I couldn't stand over there another second, they're so obnoxious'."
I was done with that bullshit from the moment I heard what Ryan had to say. "I couldn't stand lookin' at the bitch anyways. If I looked at his cross eyes any more, I was about to loose my saffron chicken." We laughed.
Ryan got real witty for a second. "At least we don't have to look at our bar tabs like this," and he held up a napkin, crossing his eyes and pretending to look really hard at it. We laughed. He can be such a bitch and I love it. He lights up my life, radiating with confidence and always knowing when and how to put people in their places.
Naomi Black and Jason showed up. Fushia, our two tons of fun drag queen was there too. She kept us company early on in the evening, but eventually retreated to talk with Naomi about God only knows what. After the incident with the two fairies from North Carolina, Ryan had his ears perked up, receiving everything from local conversation, to outer space noise.
Somewhere along the way, Lon came in. I talked to him for a while. I turned back around to see Ryan and Frank arguing. Ryan was calm but firm in his voice. Frank's eyebrows were raised in defense. I couldn't tell what was going on. I turned back to keep talking with Lon about Texas and how Texans can party so hard, but if you live there you have to tolerate country music. Rob tapped me on the shoulder. I paid my tab. I looked over to Ryan. He was quiet and staring off into space. "Oh lord," I thought.
Rob spoke, "We need to leave before he spills blood." Ryan didn't batt a lash.
The three R's (Rob, Ryan, and Ryan) left the bar. Ryan stopped walking halfway through the lot and yelled at me. "Ryan, do you promise me you will never come here again? And if you ever convince me to come back to this hell hole, I will never speak to you again! I'm serious." And he was, he really was. I told him yes, wholeheartedly. We got in the car and closed the doors.
"Frank is playing both sides of the field. He was down there at the other end of the bar talking shit. I know he was talking shit," he started, "He said something to them and made a hand gesture, then Naomi and Jason both looked down at us at the same time." Ryan was livid. "You know how I know? because when Naomi and Jason looked at us and saw that I saw, Fushia was right there and she just put her hand over her mouth." Okay, so she put her hand over her mouth. She knew it wasn't right, but Ryan went on to explain something I never knew. "Do you know what that means when someone puts their hand over their mouth like that?" He didn't give me a chance to respond. "Back in the 1990's, if you had a social alliance or friendship with anyone and you heard someone talkin' shit, you put your hand over your mouth as a sign that said, 'they're talking shit'."
We're never going back. Ryan told me he'd run to the liquor store anytime I want him to. We're going to start hitting up the southside and finding a new place there. We'll start going to the Wave again. We'll go this Thursday and probably Saturday, but I don't always like that big dance bar where everyone stands and models. I want a neighborhood bar like the Pocket, where I don't have to dress nice or do my hair or worry about who will be there. There are a couple places like that in Norfolk, but it will be like having to find a new family. It's hard to do. My alliances have built up over years at the Pocket, and it's become a second home, a refuge, a place to hide away and feel loved, no matter how bad my day, week, or month had been. I love that. I will miss that. But Frank is too bitter. He's done. I'm too nice of a person to fuck over like that. He knows damn well that I'm one of his few loyal supporters.
We went to 7Eleven afterwards. Ryan bought fake flowers made of dyed feathers that looked like roses. He gave them to Rob and I. He smiled, feeling newly liberated about venting and washing his hands clean of that shit hole. We left 7Eleven's parking lot and headed next door to the Taco Bell. The "Drive Thru Open" light was illuminated in the windows but nobody answered at the box when I yelled out, "Are you serving fourth meal!?" We went to Wendy's, no luck there either. We settled for McDonalds. We ate back at Ryan's house. I left at 1:40AM and was home and sound asleep by 2AM.
I'm really sad to say that the Pocket days have come to an end. It's a sad realization that it's over. My dream may signify a death of one phase of my life, and a beginning of a new one. It's surreal though, just watching everything unfold in front of me and being completely unable to do anything about it. Just like the motorcyclist in my dream, there's nothing I can do to save him, and there's nothing I can do to save myself this time.
I don't know the meaning of this dream. I don't want to know. Last night was bad news, so maybe it's linked to that. After I got out of my night class, I started to pull out of the parking lot only to see Ryan pulling in. I flashed my brights at him and he told me to loop back into the parking lot. I turned around and proceeded to drive down three or four rows of cars before finding his. We both got out of our cars and smoked a cigarette together. He invited me to with him and Rob. He called Rob from my phone, got the okay, and that was settled. He made me call the movie theaters too to see what time Diary of the Dead is playing. I listened to a menu longer than the New Testament before Ryan decided it was too cold to stand there, turning into pilars of ice in the parking lot. I got into my car, hung up on the robotic voice, and headed to Ryan and Rob's place.
Rob greeted me at the door, smiling. "I'm making chicken with saffron sauce." I followed him into the kitchen. I skinned three carrots, boiled green beans for ten minues, and sauteed carrots in butter. We added in turnips to the carrots, and cooked those down in the butter too. We threw all the vegetables together, and rob popped the chicken in the oven. That's when I gave up and resigned to the couch to smoke cigarettes and gently nurse the class of sauvignon blanc that Rob had poured me. Rob finished prepping the saffron sauce. Ryan got home at quarter to ten.
"The house smells wonderful," he proclaimed, wide-eyed at the front door. Rob ran into the kitchen, pulled out three beautiful plates, and laid a big red lettuce leaf on each one. He heaped a mound of the mix of turnips, carrots, string beans, and peas. Onto that he laid a layer of thinkly sliced chicken, and topped it all with a white sauce made of saffron and shallots. It was fabulous. All three of us sat on the couch and devoured it while Linda Blair hosted "Scariest Places on Earth" on the Travel Channel. The midget woman still did the voices inbetween scenes describing events and places being toured. "That bitch is still alive?" Ryan spat out.
After dinner we all showered Rob with compliments on his great success. He beamed with joy. He wants to go back to culinary school, so tonight was not only a nice dinner for Ryan, but a test for himself to see if he could do it and do it better than just good. It was great. I'll give him that. Ryan grabbed the remote and proceeded to flip through the Verizon OnDemand section. I was in the mood for a really good suspense/horror movie. We would watch a preview that looked fantastic, and I'd say something like, "Oooh, that looks good!" and Ryan would say something to the extent of, "Nah, I think I'll pass." He'd make looks of disapproval and switch back to the main menu over and over again. He finally decided that at 10:00PM it was already too late to start a movie.
"I wonder who's at the Pocket tonight." He didn't take his eyes off the television. Personally, I hadn't planned on showing face last night. I had made up my mind that it was going to be a dinner and a movie kind of night. "I really want to see Lenny and Rob. I haven't seen either of them in so long."
I didn't say too much. I kept my damn mouth shut. Finally Ryan broke down close to 10:25PM and asked Rob if he wanted to go, and asked me too. I shook my head yes, but it really would've been fine either way to me. I knew Ryan wanted to go though, so there was no use stopping it.
Ryan turned to Rob, "Get dressed."
Rob to Ryan, "I am dressed."
Ryan to Rob, "Then put your shoes on."
Ryan was getting irritated with Rob because when I told Rob to get ready, he flipped into bar mode and reared up to go. Ryan acted like he'd been begging Rob for weeks to go to the bar, him never wanting to go, and then me telling him one time changed his mind.
"I'm going to go outside and start the car." I had no intention of watching the apocalypse unfold inside Ryan's den. They emerged together after about ten minutes, both winding the way through the parking lot with lit cigarettes in hand. I could just see their dark forms and the burning cherries of the cigarettes. They flicked them both and got in the car.
The bar was dead, but Rob and Lenny were there, so Ryan was good with that. I ran to Lenny, hugged him, and set my jacket on the back of a chair.
"Well fine, don't say hi to me!" Rob kidded. I went over and gave him a hug, but he pushed me off. I grabbed him and leached myself onto him. He let me hug him and we laughed. Rob and Lenny didn't stay long. They usually ride together because Lenny isn't too fond of driving. I was drinking the same kind of beer that Rob had been drinking. Before he walked out, I set my beer down on the bar to go move my coat to my newly freed chair. I watched Rob pick up my beer, look at it once, and then pound it. He drank the rest of it. I didn't say anything. I jokingly told Frank and he gave me another one, not charging. I tipped him nearly a 50% tip
The bar started to fill with a couple new faces. Two of those faces were that of two underage guys from North Carolina who just moved to the area. Frank told us to go introduce ourselves. I would've done it, but Ryan said, "No," shooting a disapproving look at me, "We don't do that." He turned to Rob, "Do you want to play pool?"
"Not really."
"Come on," and Ryan led him, quarters in hand, to the pool table next to where the Carolina boys were sitting. Rob and Ryan played each other. The game was close. One would win by default, and they'd pretend they didn't see each other scratch on the 8, or accidently sink it in. The two boys laughed as they overheard our conversations. Ryan did introduce himself, Rob, and me. We ended back at the other side of the bar. The fatter of the two boys came and sat by Ryan for a while. Frank was talking to us, and at first, I thought he was just coming to get Frank's attention, but he stayed. I could get a better look at him now. He was wearing a black belt with silver studs on it, and a pink belt underneath it. He was crosseyed, and he had petite tits. As far as I was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary. Frank and Ryan and I carried on, this guy listened. He left after a while. Ryan turned to me with his paranoid face on. "They're talkin' shit."
"Who?" I asked.
"Those two guys. That one just went over there and said 'I couldn't stand over there another second, they're so obnoxious'."
I was done with that bullshit from the moment I heard what Ryan had to say. "I couldn't stand lookin' at the bitch anyways. If I looked at his cross eyes any more, I was about to loose my saffron chicken." We laughed.
Ryan got real witty for a second. "At least we don't have to look at our bar tabs like this," and he held up a napkin, crossing his eyes and pretending to look really hard at it. We laughed. He can be such a bitch and I love it. He lights up my life, radiating with confidence and always knowing when and how to put people in their places.
Naomi Black and Jason showed up. Fushia, our two tons of fun drag queen was there too. She kept us company early on in the evening, but eventually retreated to talk with Naomi about God only knows what. After the incident with the two fairies from North Carolina, Ryan had his ears perked up, receiving everything from local conversation, to outer space noise.
Somewhere along the way, Lon came in. I talked to him for a while. I turned back around to see Ryan and Frank arguing. Ryan was calm but firm in his voice. Frank's eyebrows were raised in defense. I couldn't tell what was going on. I turned back to keep talking with Lon about Texas and how Texans can party so hard, but if you live there you have to tolerate country music. Rob tapped me on the shoulder. I paid my tab. I looked over to Ryan. He was quiet and staring off into space. "Oh lord," I thought.
Rob spoke, "We need to leave before he spills blood." Ryan didn't batt a lash.
The three R's (Rob, Ryan, and Ryan) left the bar. Ryan stopped walking halfway through the lot and yelled at me. "Ryan, do you promise me you will never come here again? And if you ever convince me to come back to this hell hole, I will never speak to you again! I'm serious." And he was, he really was. I told him yes, wholeheartedly. We got in the car and closed the doors.
"Frank is playing both sides of the field. He was down there at the other end of the bar talking shit. I know he was talking shit," he started, "He said something to them and made a hand gesture, then Naomi and Jason both looked down at us at the same time." Ryan was livid. "You know how I know? because when Naomi and Jason looked at us and saw that I saw, Fushia was right there and she just put her hand over her mouth." Okay, so she put her hand over her mouth. She knew it wasn't right, but Ryan went on to explain something I never knew. "Do you know what that means when someone puts their hand over their mouth like that?" He didn't give me a chance to respond. "Back in the 1990's, if you had a social alliance or friendship with anyone and you heard someone talkin' shit, you put your hand over your mouth as a sign that said, 'they're talking shit'."
We're never going back. Ryan told me he'd run to the liquor store anytime I want him to. We're going to start hitting up the southside and finding a new place there. We'll start going to the Wave again. We'll go this Thursday and probably Saturday, but I don't always like that big dance bar where everyone stands and models. I want a neighborhood bar like the Pocket, where I don't have to dress nice or do my hair or worry about who will be there. There are a couple places like that in Norfolk, but it will be like having to find a new family. It's hard to do. My alliances have built up over years at the Pocket, and it's become a second home, a refuge, a place to hide away and feel loved, no matter how bad my day, week, or month had been. I love that. I will miss that. But Frank is too bitter. He's done. I'm too nice of a person to fuck over like that. He knows damn well that I'm one of his few loyal supporters.
We went to 7Eleven afterwards. Ryan bought fake flowers made of dyed feathers that looked like roses. He gave them to Rob and I. He smiled, feeling newly liberated about venting and washing his hands clean of that shit hole. We left 7Eleven's parking lot and headed next door to the Taco Bell. The "Drive Thru Open" light was illuminated in the windows but nobody answered at the box when I yelled out, "Are you serving fourth meal!?" We went to Wendy's, no luck there either. We settled for McDonalds. We ate back at Ryan's house. I left at 1:40AM and was home and sound asleep by 2AM.
I'm really sad to say that the Pocket days have come to an end. It's a sad realization that it's over. My dream may signify a death of one phase of my life, and a beginning of a new one. It's surreal though, just watching everything unfold in front of me and being completely unable to do anything about it. Just like the motorcyclist in my dream, there's nothing I can do to save him, and there's nothing I can do to save myself this time.
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