Soul Person

Last night I dreamed I was a high school English teacher who'd seduced another middle-aged teacher, a brilliant artist named Lewis. We're alone in my empty classroom having an intimate conversation about books and art. He's totally my type. First of all, Black, but not too handsome. More James Baldwin than Idris.

Secondly, he's brilliant - caustic and witty with an underlying vulnerability that sends me. We're having our first kiss when there's a knock on the door, or rather a scraping noise.

Lewis pulls away. "What's that?"

I laugh. "Probably a cat." But I know it's probably a student so I get up and open the door.

It's Felix, one of the coolest kids in school - a senior. He's tall, looks multi-racial with a sculpted, quizzical face. He's also gay and has a prosthetic left arm from the elbow down. I don't know how he lost it.

Anyway, he comes in and says, "What month is it?"

"September."

"Oh, good. Another Virgo." (How does he know that?)

He has an extra fake hand with a cigarette attached to his prosthetic arm, and he pulls it to his lips and starts to smoke. The fingernails of the fake hand are painted white. Smoking is forbidden but no one has been bold enough to stop him, and I don't try.

I say, "Maybe it's rude of me to say, but the way you use your hand is so beautiful."

He laughs. "You know, most people are too scared to mention it. They can't process two things at the same time. They suddenly blurt out - 'Oh, you're a queer...'" 

I laugh, too.

Lewis has walked a distance away to give us some privacy because he really is special.

I tell Felix, "You know what? I'm a very loving person." I tip my head toward Lewis. "Just ask him ...

"But underneath, I think I'm cold. Really dispassionate."

Felix's eyes widen and his gaze intensifies. I close my eyes.

"I've never told anyone that before, but you're such a genius, I felt like I could tell you."

He says, "You're smiling."

My eyes are still closed to keep from crying. "I know."

I say, "You're a good writer now, but wait 'til you're 65. You're going to be a cynical fucking bastard, but you'll be an amazing writer. I wish I could be around."

He says, "You're my soul person."

"I know."

***

I actually wrote all this down the moment I woke up because it was so clear.