And yet I dream of her

Created on Thursday, July 6, 2006.
Filed under .

I know I’ve written about this before, but it’s got to be said. Maybe writing down exactly what’s happening will ease it, but it’s unlikely; it didn’t work the two other times.

At long intervals — maybe once every three months — I dream of my first girlfriend, a pretty blonde I met in Ninth grade. We were together, on and off, for eleven months. I’m not particularly attached to her, and even though our break-up left a large hole in my chest (three years in healing), I am to all intents and purposes ‘over her’. And yet I dream of her.

These dreams are always non-sexual, but carry the feeling of a happy home life like a good marriage should have. In the dreams we never touch. In the dreams we never do anything overtly romantic, or that hints at a romance between us.

In the first dream, from late 2005, we and a group of our friends were spending the day in a house with massive adjoining lands. Our friends went to explore the woods just outside the kitchen door, but she and I stayed behind to cook a meal for them if they ever found a way out. The two of us stood side-by-side in a bleach-white kitchen that dwarfed us, doing dishes and cutting vegetables. I remember an overwhelming feeling of home.

In the second dream, which I had just last night, I was working some blue-collar job when she came to my workplace to visit me. Not to buy pastries or get a car fixed or schedule an appointment — just to visit me. And this confused me even in my sleep, so I told her that I would cut my hand off before I reached for her again. Instead of leaving, she sat down with me beside a big exhaust fan set into a concrete wall, and we talked. All I can remember of our time is that she told me the exhaust fan was making her hot, so we swapped seats. Because friends swap seats for one another.

Are my dreams rubbing in the fact that I’ve lost a real chance at happiness?

That's all there is, there isn't any more.
© Desi Quintans, 2002 – 2018.