You know those dreams that are so real? The ones that are in color and you feel everything so deeply you believe it’s reality? Only the second you wake up its gone. I mean gone, gone. You can’t even remember any of the details only the feelings? Yeah. You know it was good only what was it? Why did you have to wake up? And you get mad. Instantly disgruntled and so begins a day that is grumpy.
I dreamed a dream and it was a good one. It was a good long one. A really good long one. It included a man I met in Dublin. An unassuming man. A handsome man who didn’t expect what happened next. He didn’t expect to fall in love. He didn’t expect to fall in love with a pretty lady from California who was 15 years younger than him and who was so direct that it caught him off guard. A woman who loved him back with every single cell of her soul.
He loved her and she loved him. Only now all they do is argue and fight. And she keeps trying to figure out why everything she believed wasn’t true. And he keeps trying to explain. Only he doesn’t really have any good answers. He can only say he’s sorry and he can make promises but the dream is done.
He truly was the man of my dreams. He was everything I wanted. He was everything I could even imagine really. And I don’t know what to do anymore. Because he is coming to real life April 21.
He is coming to see me so we can talk in person. So I can yell at him. And grill him. And cry. And he knows how bad it is. And he’s coming anyway.
I don’t want to dream anymore. I don’t want a fairytale. I want real.
I’m sobbing. I’m sad. Mostly because I tried to be really careful. I tried to keep my guard up. And I fell like a stupid pathetic woman anyway. And every single time I look at a picture of him…even though I know he is incapable of the kind of confidence and guts I thought he had…I still gaze on his face, look at his smile and his eyes, the hair that doesn’t grow so good on the top of his head, and I think…”Oh my gosh. I still love you.”
And not in the love kind of way that is stupid and silly. But if he was dying. If he had two days to live. I would move heaven and earth to make those days the best of his entire life.
So maybe I’ve done my part. I loved him, I made him happy. And maybe that is all there is to it.
Or maybe the time we had together just ruined us for everyone else. For any hope for me for meeting the man of my dreams. Cause I already did.
And then I woke up.
Believing the good in people is part of the dream isn’t it? Because we all let each other down. We all do. We all will. Waking up is seeing the man behind the curtain. Vulnerable. Weak. Timid. Wanting. Needy. And at times we are all that aren’t we? So I’m debating whether it is a good thing or not that I have awoken.
He hasn’t. He still thinks I’m great. He is still enchanted. Truly enchanted with me.
He still believes.
I don’t know what to believe. I only know what I lost. And what I miss.
And I miss him. Terribly. Not the kisses, not the passion, not the stuff you expect from a prince charming. I miss hearing about his stupid day. I miss watching him stand on his head cause he’s so silly and happy. I miss him singing that stupid Saturday song every time I said “Saturday”. I miss the advice he gave me about what to do with my son and daughter. How he called just before he went to bed and fell asleep with the screen lighting the room just so I could watch him. I miss giving him a sucker punch when he wasn’t expecting it and knocking the wind out of him only for him to take me down until I threatened to pee my pants. I miss his eyes looking at mine with complete tenderness.
I’ve never felt that kind of love before. And I’m so sad because I know it was real for him. He was just so stupid. And he wanted it too much. And he was too afraid to be real..He kept his life in England in one life and the one with me in another…and he’s trying to mash the two together now. But it just feels too late.
He’s not running away. He’s taking his punishment as best he can.
I keep wondering what I’m going to do when I see him in two weeks. If my sisters and mom had it their way I wouldn’t even see him. If my children had it their way I would put him on a merry-go-round and make him throw up (he’s got an inner ear thing) and call it even.
But for me? I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m jaded. I’m praying. I’m not the needy woman who blamed everything on herself like I was three years ago. But honestly. Maybe real love is strong in a different way than what I ever thought. Maybe it cuts through pain so you can see someone’s soul and allows you to forgive? Or maybe that is just stupidity. I go from one extreme to the other these days.
I spent the evening with myself watching a silly movie, eating a meal and snuggling with my dog. I put on some make-up and went to the store and thought, well if this is my life I’m okay with it. I like me. I like who I am. And I know I’ll be okay. God has seen me through and I know he will not forsake me. I’m confident in that.
But I’m starting to re-think dreams. Maybe they aren’t good things after all. Cause you always wake up from a dream.
He’s gonna land at LAX one more time. You know the part of the song that says, “There’s so many times I’ve let you down, so many times I’ve played around I tell you now, they don’t mean a thing.” It’s the part of the song I thought never fit.
Now it does.