Does no one else feel like they might scream?

I dreamt of Moab last night for the first time in a long time. Whimsically, I drove there one evening. We - Tina and I - stopped at one of our routine trails. She knew where we were immediately, running off into the brush. The sky was purple and I could see the Milky Way. I started walking, and I caught up with another hiker. As we watched our dogs run together, we both remarked that we were starting to cry. It was too beautiful to bear. It felt like we were remembering some part of ourselves that we had abandoned. Mentally, I was tallying just how many hours I could spend here in the desert, meeting up with old friends, and still make it on time to work on Monday. More than anything, it felt real. I was relieved to be there.

In the dream, me and the stranger kept walking. I awoke when three skyscrapers became visible on the horizon line. I don’t remember these, I thought. Where am I? The hike shouldn’t have led here.

———

This morning, I feel itchy. The frenzied knot in my chest is back. I need to move, drive, run to dispel this kinetic energy strumming in my intestines, bones, temples. I could pound my fists on the table. Break the plates and spill the wine. Ruin the quiet murmur of small talk with my honesty. He’s an addict. You, you’re unhappy in your marriage and your motherhood and your taking it out on everyone else. He might go to jail. And you, are you counting down the years until your kids are eighteen and you can leave your partner? I feel bound to the chair I’m sitting in. I want to leave. Does no one else feel like they might scream?