On Dreams Concerning Laurence Fishburne - A Review
My life has been marked most frequently by recurring dreams that scar the few memories I have of being able to find a restful nights sleep.
These REM induced hallucinations often come to represent the various themes I'm currently struggling to combat in my life.
Which is why today, I'm here to tell you about my subconcious's obsession with being stuck waiting for a train in an empty subway station with a portly, but young Laurence Fishburne.
To begin, let me explain some things. I have no inherent love or obsession with Mr. Fishburne. He was great in Hannibal, and everything else I've seen him in. But I don't have some sentimental attachment to him or his acting ability.
That's not to say I find him passable, I believe him to be quite skilled as an actor. And, as a bonus, he is usually choosy enough with roles that I can trust what he's in will, at the very least, be an above average movie or TV show.
But with that being said I don't spend a legionous amount of time thinking about Laurence or any of his characters.
In my dream he appears wearing a blue suit with a white/orange checkered shirt. He wears no tie, and has his top button unbuttoned. Giving him a business casual air, despite being particularly well dressed.
He's wearing pointed brown leather dress shoes. They're quite ornate and have a lace-like pattern surrounding the tongue.
His socks, oddly, do not match. But look similar enough to persuade an unfocused eye that they're identical. They're both a light yellowish brown. The one on his right foot is a shade or two darker and has a very light orange heather design flecked in.
The sequence is always ordered the same way. We stand there noiselessly looking at our phones for 8 minutes. I'm mostly stuck refreshing the Google maps train page. Constantly checking when the next one is going to arrive. With every refresh the train's ETA pushes back farther and farther. It starts at 2 minutes. Then 4. Then 12. And so on.
Eventually I look up and notice the station is mostly empty. I never see any exits.
"Excuse me?" I usually say and then wait for Laurence to make eye contact. "Do you know if this station is closed? Or something?"
He usually replies with a "I hope not."
And I grimace and say "me too." Then we both go back to looking at our phones. But he'll cut a couple glances at me.
After a long silence, he will walk toward the tracks and sit with his legs hanging over the edge and pat the ground next to him, beckoning me over.
I usually hesitate. Although recently I haven't. I just sit. And ask "what's up?"
And he will, like an oddly specific 8-ball mixed with a fortune cookie, tell me something relatively pointed, but still vague about life.
"Have you ever realized that...Sometimes... sometimes letting go is your only option?"
"Trust me, I've learned that one the hard way."
"If I have to trust you. Maybe you haven't completely let go yet?"
"I mean. Probably not. Can we ever completely let go? I mean, without just forgetting?"
"I guess not."
It always goes this way. He will wax poetic and I'll shoot him down. Then I'll laugh. And he'll laugh. And then we just sit there. Silently. Waiting for the train to come. But it never does.
