Dreams

I'm not the kind of person who takes much stock in things like fate, destiny, predestination, the coincidences of the world around us all being tied to a central tether and holding a significance that is so much greater than ourselves, and yadda yadda yadda. However, it just so happens that my own, personal dreams are directly related to my life, how I've lived it, and how it may be affected in the future. My belief in the meaning of my dreams is my guilty pleasure as it would apply to the world of psycoanalytics; my fleeting indulgence into fate. And so follows one of many dreams and dream interpretations.

Reality:
A few nights ago, after a particularly good walk home and compelling conversation with a new MFA-er who had been sitting behind me in Monday night class for the past two weeks, I felt the feeling. The feeling being what happens when I allow myself to think things about another person like, "I like the way his hair falls out of the bottom of his baseball hat," and "no matter how much I say that I think a Southern accent sounds uneducated, his is just so damn charming," and "I wonder if he's a good couch-cuddler." Now, this all sounds very "crushy" and "new-lovey" but my thoughts were not necessarily directed towards him. He was just the catalyst. We parted ways at the parking lot. He offered me a ride home and I said "Thanks, but I can make it faster on foot than it would take you to drive out of the lot." Still, the offer was nice and something about the entire situation resonated. I had no name for it and certainly didn't think about any implications.

It was 9:30 when I got home. I had been on campus since 9:00 in the morning and was exhausted. Bed and a book. The book was "The Last Street Before Cleveland" which, overall, is a memoir about depression and personal history, but I read the last fifty pages that night and they were full of redemption, love for God and love for family, particularly the narrator's love for his wife. The point: the memoir and my love-lined interaction with my new friend connected, took root in my brain, and bloomed into a dream. (And this is why I MUST take note of my dreams...I know I miss things every day. I gloss over meanings and bury truths in far-reaching synapses, so when they come out of my subconcious, I have to pay attention or I'll lose them forever.)

Dream:
It was high school. I was in a classroom with Jeremy. The setting was familiar: it was after regular school hours because there was only Jeremy, Julian, and I. It was dark in the room and the remaining chairs were upsidedown on desks. We were chatting and laughing like we actually used to do. God it felt comfortable. It was a conversation where I held on to every word because I was convinced that every word would be brillant - not because Jeremy was dispensing revolutionary or wholly original and awesome ideas, but just because I enjoyed watching his mouth move...the experience of being so in love with the person that it doesn't matter what they are saying or doing at the moment. All that matters is what you know of them and no matter how flawed, it's more than enough. It's a love born from respect; the best kind. Jeremy and I had shared that once, years ago.

The three of us sat and talked about relationships. Julian asked what went wrong with Jeremy and me. (We had been the couple that everyone envied--two people who existed as a unit instead of individuals.) I didn't answer. I didn't have an answer. I still don't. Jeremy looked right at Julian and said, "We were engaged, you know." I said, "Were not. Why do you say that?" And Jeremy replied, "We had this kiss, and it was the most meaningful kiss I've ever had in my life, and I remember thinking then 'I have to be with this person forever. This kiss means we will be together forever'."

Reality:
I woke up with those words reverberating in a morning fog and I felt content, warm, loved, desired. In a post-dream euphoria, I tried to force myself back to sleep to see what happened with me and Jeremy--did we embrace and forgive each other and work it all out--but I couldn't. As soon as I lost it, I desperatley wanted that feeling back. It felt like what withdrawal must feel like...when you know how something tastes and sounds and smells and how it can transport you to beauty in an instant but you know you can't have it. I went from euphoria to painful longing before my eyes even opened to the first light.


Still, I stayed in bed for a few minutes and indulged in what might have been.