The Dream That Is Love

These charred remnants of my abandoned love was due to her familial devotion. Her love of her family overshadowed our love. The scared facade of a dying hole is the empty shell which remained when she left was my broken heart. Pain is so eloquent in my dreams that I do forget the gap of reality is just a little way above my head. I must confess, I do dream of her often. Not only are they numerous, these dreams are potent and lasting. These dreams make me morose for days after I have them. All I can think of is her smile. Her beaming gaze. Her radiant laugh.

All of this which fades when I wake up in a cold sweat and tears falling out of my eyes. Her laugh is no longer radiant. Her gaze not so brilliant, and her smile turns into a hideous sphincter of jagged daggers. Her eyes meld into a hellish red and she seems to be the death that I so long for. It seems funny now to think of this in retrospect: She is always something I long for. Either she is the embodiment of true love or of my death and demise. How can one earthly being be such a contradiction? Is it time that has caused this eruption of inner pain and swelling? Has my memory corroded and suppressed my ability to cope and move on? . . . Why? I really don’t understand what I feel. . . I only reason that I will never love again. I never want to hurt like this again. All my pain and agony can be surmised in the powerful imagery that was provided by one of my many haunting dreams. All the symbols are there, I just don’t know how I should interpret it. Maybe I will let you decide and we can work it out later?

This dream was set in a distant, older time. I think maybe somewhere within this century. Maybe the mid 1920’s. As always the dream begins blank and sparse. The only thing that I perceive is a street lamp light a little distance away from me. I walk towards the lamp light on a sidewalk on a crisp, early morning. The weather is perfect: heavy fog with a little chill behind it. It is very early because there is only a hint of daylight and my breath is augmenting the dawns early dew. As I reach the lamp light on this foggy morning, my love is standing under the street lamp. I am both thrilled and stilled by her presence. I want nothing more than to run to her and embrace her, but I am held back by an air of indecision. The excitement of her draws me close, just within the circle cast on the ground by the street lamp. All that can be perceived is the two of us bathed in light. We are the only beings in existence. Outside of this pale shadow the world ends and nothingness begins.

My love is a radiant light beckoning me from the shadows that I dwell in. A light that I will never be able to escape. She is the epitome of doom: She is wearing a ‘20's styled black dress and a black overcoat. Her hair is styled in that era's style as well. Now I am able to perceive myself. I am wearing a fine tailored black suit and a hat to match. Amazingly in this drab, gothic scene there is a jovial, awkward feeling. It is almost like an electric current is running through me. I stand alone gazing upon the apex of beauty. For such a sight and the joy it brought to me I could not help but feel the opposite. It is a cold morning to match my feeling. It seems to me like we were miles apart, but that we were closer than we ever had been before.

I smiled a sad, hopeful smile and walked towards her. After a second of indecision, we embraced each other. She hugged me so hard I thought I would never breathe again. All of this built up tension was relieved. Unity beyond any sense of the word is the bliss I felt within her arms. Her breast pressed against my chest. Her heart beating faster than mine and our tears mingle between our bodies. In this sudden bliss, blinded by my love and the hunger that has festered in her absence, I kissed her on her forehead. And then it all came crashing down in a silent second. Time has now ceased and every motion is distorted, but her reaction was painstakingly clear. She backed away from me and stared at me like I was trying to seduce her for the smell of it. I could only stand there. Shocked and bewildered by the wonderfully, traumatic events that was unfolding before me.

Comforted by my lack of pursuit, she slowly returned to the embrace. Time had then been restored and things seemed to be back to the the odd jovial, gothic tone. She raised her head and gazed into my eyes. I almost felt uncomfortable because she stared so long into my eyes, I did not know when it was going to end. Or if I even wanted it to end. I was on the precipe of doubt when she whispered in my ear, "Do you want to do something sexy?" Startled, I lifted my face to see hers’ and replied not with words, but in gesture. I lifted my hand up to her face and softly caressed her cheek, slipping my index finger under her chin and gently lifted her mouth to mine. We softly kissed each other on the lips and our passion consumed us and we were nothing but slaves to it.

Just as abruptly as the dream started, it changed the scene and situation. We were now in a classy five star hotel. I can't see what I am wearing, but I feel like I am working at the hotel. Maybe the bellhop. It’s weird, but it feels like I am sending someone on their way. Even though my role has changed, the character I portray is the same man in the first part of the dream. She. She walked up to me and said, “Are you ready?” Her clothes have changed. She is still wearing an older style dress. Perhaps a 50's style dress. She is also wearing a small hat with a black netted veil. There is a magnetic tone between us and I feel as if I am about to cry. She is holding some luggage that I handed to her and she is staring at me with clouded eyes. Her words pierce me. I am stabbed through and through with a feeling so cold that it chills me to the bone. Her words feel so heavy and desolate when I nod to her that I am ready. She then motions for her last suitcase.

It feels like I am standing on a precipe with a final decision that I must make: either to jump or turn back to the life that I dispise. I feel so alone and barren in this world without her. I feel like someone has deprived me of the oxygen that I am to breath. I am suffocating and I am dying. She must have noticed my anxiety because she stepped up to me and kissed me solemnly on the lips and whispered the words that transgressed her actions, “I love you.”

I felt revived and normal again, but she turns with suitcases in hand and walks out of the lobby. I weep as I am engulfed by anxiety and start to suffocate again. I am filled with anger because I am starved of affection. I am filled with sorrow because I feel dead inside. I am filled with a desire that will never be quenched without the water that she holds within her breast. The love that would stave my hunger away that I feel every day.