the morning after last night

Last night at 1:30am we got into a discussion about long-term relationships and the danger that paired young people like ourselves might become too dependent on each other and merge into one “couple conglomerate,” thus losing their individual identities. On top of the fish that we had for dinner this served up some interesting dreams:

I’m in a big city—either Chicago or New York—and it’s the end of the world. Rain has been pouring down for days and the streets are flooded. I know that the floodwaters will just keep rising and rising until all life on the planet is wiped out (or at least all life in low-lying areas without a proper drainage system). I am holed up in an apartment complex with my family and a gaggle of random parentless children. Our building is almost completely full of water, there is no one to save us, and everyone has just given up hope and is waiting to drown. Well I hate drowning and can’t sit still so I yell at everyone to pack a suitcase with useful materials like sweaters and matches and shampoo and I gather them on top of the building. At this point I have now assumed responsibility for all of these kids and my family—a group of about forty people. But I’m unsure of what to do. As I’m struggling to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve dying in cold dark water I glimpse a group of people walking over a nearby hill not yet covered by water. Among the group of twenty adults is Dr. Justin Brookshaw, a well-known pilot who never travels without his Boeing 747, which I now notice is parked on the next hill over. I become jubilant that we will soon be able to fly the children to higher ground and thus be saved. As they near us I realize that the person leading the group—the person responsible for organizing the rescue mission and saving the children from certain death—is Jed. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and love and general warm, fuzzy feelings. He’s alive! He brought help! He’s saving me and my family and the children! But before I can properly express all of my tumultuous feelings he calmly saunters up to me and says, “Don’t you worry sometimes that we’ve become too dependent on one another and that this dependence might hinder our individuality?”

Then I wake up.

Now I know that the flood scenario stems from a recent read—The Preservationist by David Maine, the story of Noah and his family—and possibly some cross-wired thoughts about Jake Gyllenhaal and his roles in both The Day After Tomorrow and Jarhead, which I am currently reading. And I know that my role as savior of the children is a product of some deep-seated psychological issues that, as of yet, I’ve not been willing to deal with. But what about Jed’s response in my dream? What exactly does that tell me about our relationship status? Our future together? Our conflicting need to express ourselves as individuals while simultaneously maintaining some sort of joint identity? This morning after hearing about my dream he cleared everything up.

“It means that when the world ends, no matter what our relationship is or where we are living I will come and save you. So quit your whining and just get on the goddamn plane!!”

And strangely, that was the perfect thing to say.