I dreamed of you last night.
I dreamed I went to a wedding- yours probably, and saw you there. You were dressed in a beautiful red dress. Your hair was unusually wavy and you had on bright lipstick. I know, it’s so unlike you.
I don’t remember coming into the reception, but I remember leaving. I took one last look at where you were sitting. You finally saw me and looked uncertain, confused and for a moment, even afraid. As if I were there to ruin things for you…
When we made eye contact I mouthed the word, ‘congratulations’. Your worried face broke into small smile. One that conveyed relief and perhaps, even a hint of sadness. But maybe I imagined that part. Then, I turned around and walked away.
This morning, I woke remembering the dream so very vividly. I looked around my house and saw all those pictures of you and I together. Those beautiful photographs that I display like trophies. Maybe as evidence that there was an ‘us’ at one point. That, you did love me- I didn’t imagine it. Anyone looking at those pictures could see clear as day, that there was love here. Proof, that you had existed in my life at one time, even though today there is not a trace of you anywhere. Not so much as a strand of hair.
For me, imagination and desire are very close.
I dreamed I went to a wedding- yours probably, and saw you there. You were dressed in a beautiful red dress. Your hair was unusually wavy and you had on bright lipstick. I know, it’s so unlike you.
I don’t remember coming into the reception, but I remember leaving. I took one last look at where you were sitting. You finally saw me and looked uncertain, confused and for a moment, even afraid. As if I were there to ruin things for you…
When we made eye contact I mouthed the word, ‘congratulations’. Your worried face broke into small smile. One that conveyed relief and perhaps, even a hint of sadness. But maybe I imagined that part. Then, I turned around and walked away.
This morning, I woke remembering the dream so very vividly. I looked around my house and saw all those pictures of you and I together. Those beautiful photographs that I display like trophies. Maybe as evidence that there was an ‘us’ at one point. That, you did love me- I didn’t imagine it. Anyone looking at those pictures could see clear as day, that there was love here. Proof, that you had existed in my life at one time, even though today there is not a trace of you anywhere. Not so much as a strand of hair.
For me, imagination and desire are very close.
