"Oh, my! You have grown"

"hang on bhassu, i'm getting another call"
"hello?"
"hey"
"hey."
silence.
he broke the silence with a "what's up?"
"nothing, why'd you call?"
"i just got your texts. i'd lost my phone na. anyway, it's sanskrit's birthday so wish her. I'll call you again in a bit."
I hung up, "bhassu, Arsenal called, i'll meet you tomorrow."
I stared at the phone. Shivering. Hyper-ventilating. Crying. and I didn't know why. I was overwhelmed with emotion that i thought i was well past. I felt as though i was standing at the foot of a path, filled with nightmares i'd already seen, and i had to see them all again.
I called Sanskriti up and wished her and spoke to her for a bit. Then I hung up and alled Arsenal up. He was on the phone, said he would call back in a bit. I went back to bed, listening to my iPod. Loud screamo music. I thought, "which text made him call me? the one which reported the death of my friend? the 4 that i sent when my dad's friends's mothers died. The one i sent when my friend's grandmother died. Or perhaps it was the one in which i asked him if dead people could contact us through dreams. Either way, I was glad he called.
I'd called him over on the 28th of February, since my parents were out of town and i'd decided to seize the oppertunity. When i re-did my room , i got 2 walls painted black so i could draw on them, with chalk. i wanted him to mark my walls with his art. The walls are now works of art. He came, we spoke, played the guitar, listen to music, did the usual things, which was very unusual for us. It was so weird, how easy it was to be around him. There this familiar feeling, of comfort and perhaps even the fact that i feel safe when i'm with him. Being with each other was just so natural to the both of us. Before leaving he said "don't call me again." and i asked "call as in 'hey come over' or call as in 'hey what's up?' like on the phone?" he said "either one. It's just hard for me". Even though we spoke that night and the following day, we agreed not to talk to each other unless in the case of an emergency, until the 31st of October. That, being the day we shall re-consider gettng back together. So i was surprised, and glad that he had called well before the 31st of October.
He called at 1:34am. We caught up on the usual stuff, and then he asked me, "what was the dream about?" I said:
"...it was the first dream i've had of my grandfather since he died 8 years ago. I was 7 and wasn't allowed in the room where the doctors were trying to figure out what went wrong. The brain surgery had gone well and he had been healing really good for the last 7 months. In the dream however, I was in the room. I saw him die. Weirdly enough there was an "alive meter" which showed how alive you were. and It went from 15u to 10u to 5u to 0u to -5u. Dead. 'U' being the units. Then they took him to my room and laid him down on the side on which my sister sleeps. Next thing i see, was that i was sitting next to him. On a chair. I am as old as i am now. I look at his head, it's still shaved. No bandages though, but the scars from the surgery are still there. He opens his tierd, red , wet eyes and looks at me. Smiles. And sings "oh, Suzana" for me. A song he always sang to me when I was younger. And he gets up, tries to stand but sits down. perhaps he felt dizzy. And he looks at me and says "oh my, you've grown. You have become so big." I stare at him. Smiling. Next scene, everyone has gathered outside my grandmother's room for someone reason and i get this urge to go check on my grandfather, and as i walk down the corridor towards my room, i gradually drifted to conciousness. I woke up, wet eyes..."
Not knowing what sense to make of it, I sent that text to Arsenal.
And so, I asked him the same question, on the phone. I knew i was being naive but i asked him because he is the only one who could keep up with my madness. And the only one who gives flght to my imagination. And in my heart of hearts, i know no one else can keep pace with my retartedness, and even if they could, no one would. Besides him. We spoke for a bit and eventually went to bed.
It was weird, and we're not going to speak until the 31st, most probably. Atleast that's the plan. But then again, has life EVER worked out accordng to plan? :)