Up and Out

Dearest Rachel –

You might remember the scene at the end of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where Willy Wonka presses the button marked ‘Up and Out.’

“I always wanted to press that button, but never had the nerve,” he says – and I may be paraphrasing. And for good reason, as the elevator smashes a hole in the roof of the factory, hovering above the city, as Wonka reveals his master plan to turn the factory over to Charlie (and just as he’s badly damaged it, too).

That’s about what it feels like to me, as I prepare to get up and get out for the first time in a week. I’m almost worried that I’m going to break something as I prepare to move about the city. But as far as I understand it, my paperwork is in order, and I’m free to go.

It’s just so hard to believe.

Of course, I can’t get out as soon as I wake up, as that first moment occurs at a quarter after four. It’s like Christmas morning; you have to wait until a reasonable hour in order to get up and unwrap your packages (which in my case, happens to be the whole city). Fine, I think as I flop back onto the bed, I get it. I’ll try to get a little more sleep, yet.

Well, it took a little doing, but I managed to fall asleep. And now that I’ve had that vision, I wish I hadn’t woken up yet. Yeah, it’s another one of those kind of dreams.

In it, I was at my parents house, and there was some great crowd there – maybe it was the family Christmas party, maybe it was some church group function, I don’t know. The place seemed just a little bigger than I think it is; maybe I was younger and smaller, but it was still me, and still without you.

I was standing, leaning against the kitchen counter on the family room side. She and this other girl were sitting on the floor, with her back against the recliner, listening to me. I don’t dare name her; it’s not who you would think, but you and I both know her, and to say her identity now would just break the spell. I was trying to explain to them – as I do these days – how much I miss you, and all the things we would do together. And I mean all the things.

I don’t know that she said a word in reply, but she had that smile on her face, and tilted her head in vague curiosity, as if asking me to demonstrate what our kisses were like. It took me a moment to realize what she was asking without actually saying anything.

“Uh… really?” She didn’t so much as nod, as just let the smile on her face widen ever so slightly.

So I got down on the floor next to her, sitting so that both of our knees we’re by the other’s backside. I reached for her face, one hand to her chin the other just by her opposite ear, and brought it to mine.

At this point, it probably became like one of those kissing scenes that Fred Savage‘s character would complain about. First a peck on the lips, followed by a gradual opening of those lips, to an intertwining of tongues… and this went on for a bit.

You know how songs talk about other peoples lips taste, right? One of our songs mentioned that, in fact – although, neither flavor would have ever applied to us (cigarettes versus wine). I can’t speak for you, and whether I tasted like anything to you, but I couldn’t describe you as ever having tasted like something in particular. But this kiss tasted like… home. It tasted every bit like kissing you.

At some point, I couldn’t help it break it off, and say to her, “Gah,” no, I couldn’t bring myself to swear, but I came close, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed this.”

I don’t even know if she actually spoke, but I heard the reply of “No, no I don’t,” at which point, we resumed, at her initiation.

It felt so real, honey. Part of me wants to think that you sent this out to me to remind me how good it was. But why would you pair me with her?

Or maybe I should’ve said His name when I was talking to her about it. In which case, I don’t know whether to thank Him for such a wonderful dream, or question Him as to whether He intends that I should actually pursue her in real life. Because that seems like the remotest possibility, like hitting the lottery – again.

And now that I’m awake, I’m thinking to myself, forget Basel, forget Switzerland. In fact, forget Europe… I want that dream back.

Oh, and I should mention at this point the other girl who I was ignoring – and eventually, had to apologize for that impromptu make-out session, as she was looking at us with a mix of quizzicality and mild disgust. It was Emma Watson, but not her as she currently is. More like how she was as of the second or third film, and probably wondering whether she’d end up having to do that with either Rupert or Daniel at some point. Somehow, it was clear she wasn’t looking forward to it.

But that’s another thing, I was ignoring it a literal movie star for this girl. On the other hand, a willing girl – like you – is better than any movie star. And now I don’t know if I’ve been given two solutions in one morning – one immediate, and another long-term – or if it’s just my brain teasing me.

Clearly, I’ve been pinned up in this room just a little too long, and I need to get outside, if for no other reason than to clear my head. I wish it could be real, but I dare say I know better than that. Still, it was a lovely dream. Do I thank you, or Him?

Anyway, regardless, wish me luck. Time to get out there, and enjoy myself for once.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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