Dreams

A few months ago, I was gushing about how happy and content my dreams were. That there was no anxiety, no secret fears. No dreams of being naked in front of a crowd, of not being able to remember my locker combination. Just happy, smiling manifestations of my subconscious. I knew that no matter what challenges we were about to have to face, I had a strong belief that everything was going to be fine. Good, even. I trusted in what we had, and what we were.

Well. What a difference a month or so can make, right?

Lately, my dreams are unsettled. Vivid. I'm trying to find a place where I'm supposed to be and I can't. I've lost a precious possession and can't find it. Or I'm just lost......not knowing where I am, or where I'm supposed to be. Or I'm unable to see, or hear, or speak, or even move sometimes.

It doesn't take Freud to figure out that I'm dreaming about loss. I feel it nearly every moment of the day lately. I cry every day. Sometimes not all day, if I can keep myself busy, but some days I can't even wear my contacts because my eyes are burning from tears. I feel ridiculous. I'm too old for this. I'm crying for what I believe I've lost, and for what I may have never had in the first place. Probably the latter.

Once again, I've been stupid. I was actually happy, though, even if it didn't last. I can't remember the last time I was that happy, if ever. I know I've never felt so accepted, and enjoyed. Genuinely liked. And by someone I was absolutely wild about, someone with whom I clicked immediately. Just friends in the beginning, which was what made things so great with us, I thought.

So yeah. This sucks. The disappointment is overwhelming. I no longer believe that it will all be OK; I'm fairly certain it won't. And I suppose that if someone has to get hurt in this, it should be me.

Sometimes, though, I hate being me.