Dear Person Letter #46

by austin beaton

Dear Pokémon Colleague Chai,

What terrifies you? Like, what is really fucking scary in your head?

I know you have real nightmares.

It’s wild that with all the billions of people doing all the billions of things—there are still phenomenon we don’t understand.

Like why we dream. What is the evolutionary need? Is it like when a Pokémon goes in their Pokéball?

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is a song you showed me, driving your SUV to Korean BBQ, all you can eat. I vibed it so much I put it on my most recent playlist, Why Don’t You Like Tahoe?

My favorite Cranberries track is called Dreams.

One of your partner’s favorite’s is Dream On by Aerosmith.

Culture is fascinated about what happens when we sleep. I’m sure one day neuro-technology will be able to map what we’ve dreamed into a CGI movie.

Ever had one of those nightmares that are half real, half not? I hate them. In mine i’m usually overwhelmed, like my boss needs me to maintain a full sized zoo that’s somehow crammed on top of my desk or I’ll be fired and never able to write again.

I try to yell, but my mouth is covered in concrete. I try to open my eyes, but can’t. I’m above myself as I lay in my bed, watching myself lay in bed.

They scare me nearly as much as being silenced when I’m awake.

I’ve lived on that planet. As a shy, nervous kid I calculated each word that I usually chose not to say.

As a boy I was afraid to talk.

Now I fear words will fade in my throat before they reach someone who might want them or need them, including myself.

That’s part of why I write—which is undoubtedly vain.

Carl Adamshick, a tall and humble poet that I like, wrote something like, what we don’t have language for dies inside us.

Feelings, ideas, and memories can smolder into oblivion if we don’t categorize them.

Little me didn’t know what was allowed for me to say. And when I’m angry or nervous he can still possess me and speak out my mouth, like a scared, invisible alien.

Isn’t it peculiar being young and remember being young?

Remember when you were not old enough yet to be my colleague?

Remember the dirty chai latte I brought you as a welcome back present that I spilled in the street 20 yards from your house?

Fucking gravity.

I see your love, your helping.

Most of the time a lot of us are trying.

You definitely are.

Even when you’re scared. What beauty.

Be well,