The Long Highway Pt. 20C

As I've said, there've been other women than Akemi in my life. She's not the only one. We aren't characters like that, out of a fairytale. And there've been a number of women I might have gotten together with.

Thinking of the hostess at the Japanese inn I wrote about recently brings one to mind from my youth- seventeen or eighteen, just about to leave for college. She was the daughter of friends of my parents and a really nice person, intelligent, open in a good sense- she had an inner life- and pretty enough, with brown long hair (like the hostess!)

My parents sort of pushed us to get acquainted, thought, I guess, it would be a cute match and, what the hell, convenient, since we'd be seeing, had seen each other, occasionally in the ordinary run of events. Her mother and father and mine were close friends. And she was creative (what I mean about the inner life), artistic like the woman I'd be with later- Akemi, that is.

I liked Denise all right. The problem was that I had a lot else going on in my life then. My attention was elsewhere. Also, I guess I balked at anything suggested by my parents, though I liked them all right too. I wasn't a rebel but at the age to find my own way, "leave me alone" my motto.

She liked me, was the thing. She'd come over with her parents and I could see her interest, that she might be waiting for me to give a sign if not actually make a move. But I didn't. We exchanged glances. I felt a spark between us.

She was leaving one day, I remember, and I looked at her as she walked to the door. She was wearing white, trousers and top, and as I knew I might not be seeing her again- I'd be going to college soon- I imagined what being with her would be like.

And of course she wouldn't wait for me forever. She had her own things. She'd come over with a girlfriend that day.

My view was from behind Denise approaching the door, so I could gaze freely without her noticing (Maybe her friend did. Standing off to the side, she might have watched me watching Denise).

I liked her soft character, softer than Akemi's, I could say. No, definitely. Akemi isn't passive as Denise seemed. Of course, she was young, had room to grow, learn to fight for herself.

I pictured knowing her better as I took in the contours of her body: slim, lithe (though not especially sensual at that age- she'd grow into it).

Of course I also pictured her without her clothes, and that gave a good feeling but also sharply wistful, as she was departing the scene.

Yeah, things might have ended up very differently than they have. Life is a mystery for sure. I'm just saying.

Speaking of strange, I had a dream which could be described that way. A guy- not me- was wandering or hiking, lost, exhausted but strong, on the far side of a vast wooded plain he'd crossed. He sought refuge in a cave, damp dark luminous space with a wide opening to outdoors, craggy, sharp black rock visible in ambient light. The cave likely penetrated as a network deep into the mountainside. The lost hiker stood in the first space, only one visible in the dream (view limited, as in a movie), which was large and almost felt welcoming, like a living room.

The ceiling was high and vaulted, making you feel the insignificance of your own figure in the grand scheme. Some surfaces round about and above bore vibrant colors- blues, greens, reds- from mineral deposits (the influence of Akemi's paintings showing in my sleep?)

The setting reminded me of a movie by the German director Werner Herzog, as a matter of fact, about prehistoric cave painting. "Caves of Our Forgotten Ancestors" I think it was called.

Resourceful, experienced in surviving the wild, the lost hiker knew to first find sustenance, rebuild strength before plotting a return to civilization. He drank something from the left of the entrance, shadowy zone where hard rock floor and wall met, and immediately vomited a surprisingly wide, brown spray- that was supposed to have been water, and maybe it was but had sat there a long while.

Strange dream for sure. The guy was big, like a bear. You sensed he would do all right. And come to think of it, maybe that really was me.