Dreaming About The Love Of My Life

holding handsI fell in love last night. Again.

I couldn’t help it. There she was, sitting next to me, holding my hand, letting me touch her leg. She would look at me with those eyes, twinkling and perfect, her smile lighting up the darkness of my world. I forgot how things looked in the light until she came along. I forgot how things felt.

I had accepted a new job and my company was putting me up in a house. It was my first tour of the new place where I would hang my hat, and she was with me, exploring all the nooks and crannies of a home that felt like a mansion. I couldn’t have asked for more. I couldn’t have been any happier.

Her brothers were there with us — Why? I have no idea — but I didn’t care. She was there. That’s all that mattered.

We decided to take the dog for a walk — wait, I don’t have a dog; was it hers? — and together we left the house, walking hand in hand. I could almost feel both of our heartbeats through the clench of our fingers. This was love. I felt it. I knew it. I recognized it.

We met my new neighbor — New Jersey Governor Chris Christie? — and he greeted me warmly and welcomed me to the neighborhood. I mentioned to her that the Governor seemed not just friendly, but quite Presidential. She agreed and flashed me that smile.

Across the street another couple walked with their dog and when the two canines caught a whiff of each other, they began their playful rough-housing. We smiled. They smiled.

None of us saw the car coming. It was silent, stealth-like, as it came up the street, a four-wheel missile ready to change everything. Before anybody could react, it ran over the other couple’s dog and continued up the road.

I raced after it, trying to get a license plate. I saw two numbers — 20? — but I couldn’t make out the rest.

As the car disappeared into the distance, I didn’t realize she had, as well.

I had let go of her hand.

I turned around and nobody was there.

Just like that, she was gone.

And I was alone. Again.

It wasn’t long after that I woke up and realized it had all been a dream; just another random thought pattern bouncing throughout the synapses of my brain.

I love it when I have such vivid dreams, almost as much as I hate it.

Despite the bizarre nature of everything going in my head, she felt real. The feelings felt so right, so pure and so true that I wanted her to be there when I woke up.

She wasn’t, of course. She never is.

This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. I often have dreams so vivid and so real that I wake up thrown for a loop when I realize it all had been conjured up in the deepest back corners of my mind.

Every time she comes to me, she’s somebody different. Sometimes, she’s somebody I know. Other times she is somebody I once knew and I still miss tremendously.

Then there are other times when she’s a total stranger to me — at least to the me that wakes up, momentarily mourning my loss of her.

In the real world, the awake world, I have nobody there beside me and this is by choice. When I’m going through my day-to-day activities, I never reach one of those moments where I pause and say, “Gee, I wish I had somebody to share this with.” It just doesn’t happen. Maybe I did once, but that’s a long gone emotion, buried deep inside another person’s past.

When things die, they don’t come back. That’s a part of me that is gone.

Yet when she comes to me in my dreams, in whatever form she takes, I want her there more than anything in the world. She is my angel, she is my muse. She is all I have, even if it’s just a fleeting moment, ready to be snatched away from me when the real world jolts me awake.

There are times I wish I could just go back to sleep and see her again, but I know the world doesn’t work like that.

I know I fell in love in last night, but that it is over. It is gone.

I’m awake.

And, once again, I’m alone.

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