I dreamt about you today. I always have vivid dreams when I sleep during the day. I only sleep during the day when I’m sick. I don’t know if it’s the time of day or my health that causes them, but today it was you.
I dreamt that I saw you. Everyone in my dream tried to tell me that you still love me, but I said you didn’t. They tried to tell me that I was wrong, but I said I wasn’t. They tried to tell me that we would be together again, that once you saw me you wouldn’t be able to resist. I cried, begging them to stop saying things I knew weren’t true.
And then I found where you’d hidden away, stored away, everything I’d ever written you, sent you, given you. Some of them weren’t really things I’d ever sent. But like a child, you’d put them in a secret box and hidden them under your bed. In my dream, I knew that they were right.
In my dream two women I know personally masturbated together while I watched. In my dream you had a younger brother closer to my age. In my dream, you needed me to rescue your little brother from his job. In my dream, your little brother desperately wanted me to go with you to your high school reunion. There was a lot of fantasy in my dream.
I woke up crying, though. Because the biggest fantasy was the idea that there is still the possibility of us.
I know dreams are never truly literal. They’re metaphors and analogies. Sometimes they’re our deepest desires. Maybe that’s what this was.
In my waking hours, I’m realistic. In my waking hours, I push you to the back of mind so that I can stay sane and move forward. In my waking hours, I’ve found ways to not think about you and to cherish the people who are in my life now, even if I can’t love them.
In my illness-induced dreams, I guess I have less control. Today, I dreamt about you. Tonight, I’m back to reality.