I dreamed about an ex-lover, a friend to whom I’m about to write email (only partly because of the dream). He’s been, to a greater or lesser extent, in my dreams for something like a week now. I’ve no idea why. All I know is that I awake happy and slightly nostalgic, that I miss him and want him and Ethan to meet.
I told Ethan about this yesterday morning. His eyes reflected the shine in my own. He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing; he wants to meet J. too. This is important – in some ways, this is it, it’s why I treasure him so. He gets what it means to love, nurtures the depth of feelings I carry for him and for others.
I wake, and before writing email I read blogs. My legs underneath the blanket freeze as I follow links from a post. A sixteen-year-old girl is accused of being terrorist threat and imprisoned – imprisoned! – for being a teenager. For not getting along with her parents, for wanting to get married at 16, for a misunderstanding in the family that involved the police because they trust in the system, a decision which cost their daughter her freedom after the police involved the FBI.
The girl’s Muslim. As the source of my links wrote, “this is the Patriot Act in action. This is religious persecution. This is your America.”
