Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

Eventually I left but I was glad I went over to her house. I definitely know I should be more respectful of her privacy and I fear that I love her even more than ever because of these new mysteries.

Sometimes I’ll catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye and when I turn to look she’ll give me a little rueful smile. I expect that she’ll turn away, embarrassed to be caught in the act, but instead she gazes harder with an intensity that’s unnerving. It’s like a tiger sizing up a tasty meal.

It’s very sexy but also kind of unnerving at the same time because it is in those moments I feel as if she controls my entire future and destiny. Then I feel like I have to grin or do something goofy to alleviate my perceived awkwardness. It makes me wonder though if I can really handle being with a mate that is my better, or at the very least, my equal in intelligence. People don’t really look at each other anymore, but we do.

I have no doubt that if we were to have a child, he or she would grow up to rock the world down to its tectonic plates. I feel as if our genetics would combine and mutate to the next level beyond anything normal coupling could ever produce. If that responsibility is ours, do I even have a choice or control over what happens? Who still believes in predetermined destiny? Maybe we should join a cult.

“…the sound of a witch’s anathemas in some unknown tongue”

I had the most amazing, strange and magical evening. Last night was like one of those bizarre artificially contrived Penthouse letters that never actually happen in real life. Maybe my serendipity lies in lustful accord with her universal harmony, for I notice when she moves the stars seem to sway in her wake.

Everything started with a dream I had the other night. I used to write down all my intense dreams during the middle of the night, scribbling furiously in the notebook I kept by my bed, deciphering the lettering later and trying to make sense of it all. I guess I thought the key to my waking mind might be given to me in clues deeply tucked away in my subconscious. After a while I just realized I have a lot of fucked-up vivid dreams that don’t make any sort of sense most of the time. The side affect of my experimental project is that I can remember my dreamscapes much more vividly and the retention period is extended by a few days. If I don’t write them down within a few days the inspiration runs out of gas and the thought is given back to dreamland for someone else to pick up on. I’ve heard of people being able to pick up radio waves with their braces or through metal plates in their head, so I wouldn’t be surprised to discover there are dream waves on an existential plane that we all universally tap into during our deepest sleep periods.

This dream I had the other night though would not have required any special abilities to remember, in fact it would be hard to forget now. I was walking with Jenifer hand-in-hand, without a care in the world, across the UNT campus, right where they have that big square courtyard that is used for absolutely nothing, in front of the RTVF building. It was nighttime, and we were both barefoot. I could feel the dew from the green grass soak between my toes as we left the concrete sidewalk behind us and stepped into the trees. The campus lights were shining down like multiple scattered full moons from their tall poles with their odd neon anti-rape glow, lighting up the trees and buildings, creating deep weird shadows in places that made the world feel abstract. She was wearing a thin blue summer dress that glided up and down her smooth legs as we walked. For some reason I was wearing a button-down collared shirt and khaki pants. Why I was dressed like a prep school boy from the “Outsiders” I have no idea. There were people around as if class might still be in regular sessions this late at night, and I think I was supposed to be escorting her someplace but she was pleasantly leading me by the hand instead. Leading me to some surprise with a seductive smirk on her face. Her long blonde hair practically is caressing her shoulders as we move and she keeps tossing it back only to feel it move forward with its light touch again and again. Every so often she would stop and kiss me deeply, making me very aroused, and then turn to continue leading me again before I had a chance to react and return my own advances. We finally get to some school building that I can’t identify in my mind, and even though I spot some people still going in and out, I know what we are going to do.

Nobody notices us as we slip in, it’s as if we exist in a separate plane of reality not available to the common person, and in a dark hallway, we start to make love. Not the physical sex, but the slow dance of two young lovers oblivious. Jenifer pushes me against a wall and puts my hands around the middle of her waist so that I can feel the muscles of her lower back and the tightness of her stomach muscles as they curve into her thighs. Her dress is so thin that it serves more as a mental boundary or tease than a physical impediment. I caress lower down her body and I know the sensations of my touch feel like static charges on her bare skin in spite of the flimsy barrier. While I am caressing her, she is slowly unbuttoning my shirt and with the fingernail on her index finger she slowly scratches a deep red line down from my neck, to my chest and over my tight stomach. My belt is undone and my pants are unbuttoned by this point, but before they can be unzipped, I spin her around and push her against the wall with one hand behind the back of her neck and the other hand reaching down around the back of her leg, raising the hem of her dress and letting my fingers slide further and further up her thighs until I barely graze her pubic hair with a light caress. As this is happening she is turning and we are locked into a deep kiss. In real life our kisses are phenomenally electric so my dream becomes a mirror echo of reality at this point. I can’t describe what it is like to feel so erotically connected but maybe it will suffice to say our enthusiasm left little time nor desire to stop and breath we were so caught up in each other, our bodies behaving with abandon. We had sex right there up against the wall, with the fluttering ghosts of people trapped in their reality maneuvering around us, unknowing and unseeing, never aware of the glowing light coming from us as we were joined into one.

It was so fucking erotic that I woke up with wet sheets for the first time in years, sad to have my dream end and blearily re-focused on the reality I inhabit everyday with all the other ghosts.

Last night I grew tired of playing it cool and all the loneliness that goes with it so I walked over to the Karma Café to find Jen. She was really happy to see me I think. Or at least she didn’t act like I was a stalker and before I knew what was happening I was listening to the events of her day and then I was babbling like a nervous theater student in his first competition. I was talking about everything and anything, enthralled to have her with me enraptured by my words and when I mentioned that I had dreamt about her she insisted I tell her what it was all about. “Here goes” I thought, “If I tell her this she’ll be looking at me like I collect women’s ears on a necklace or something.” I did my best to get all the details right, to downplay the sex and focus on the colors and contours of the dream. I even laughed and gave possible explanations about why things that seemed like sex might not have actually been sex, anything to keep what came out of my mouth from sounding like cheap porn.