Pieces Of Me [an online journal of sorts]

Entry 1 2 0: loss

Do you think dreams mean anything?

I don't think they do, not really. Most, if not all, are nonsensical, let alone carry some hidden message. No, I don't know why I had dream of a man-eating tortoise that wouldn't leave me be. Obviously it doesn't mean anything. Even the ones that are more tethered to reality, like finding myself with a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever those people were to me, or ones where I'm just with my friends or family--they don't really mean anything. They don't matter.

The only times they seem to matter is when you're in them. I always wake up with this sense of I have to do something. It's not even like anything major happens. Mostly we just talk and that's it. But every time that's happened, it felt like my brain was telling me wake up, this isn't something you can ignore. And it's not like it's wrong. After all, ignoring problems never made them go away. But saying that makes it sound like my problem was you, and that's not true.

My problem is how I felt about you. How I still feel about you.

If I didn't still feel something, I wouldn't have woken up with this sensation of complete loss. Like something dear had been clasped tightly between my fingers and I just let it slip. And I did--in my dream, at least.

This is how it goes:

I was there. You were there. Your arm felt like an iron band, holding my waist like I would up and disappear if you loosened your hold even a little. My own arms I tried to keep to myself, but my heart was clenched. I was waiting with bated breath for a chance. Just one moment. Please just give me this one thing. And then the moment came when you finally looked at me.

I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. My arms wound around your neck; yours wrapped around my waist. It felt too tight, too warm, and my chest was going to burst open and there was nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else I'd rather be with.

I whispered, I missed you, and it sounded like something ripped right out of my soul, and you said, I missed you too, and that sounded like a sigh of relief.

I was there. You were there. That was the only thing that mattered, that existed.

And then I couldn't breathe anymore.

I was given the one moment I'd desperately wished for, so of course I woke up. We were there, and then it was me, in my room, trying to get some air into my lungs. Trying to remember or forget the embrace I'd just been wrapped in.

I started laughing, honestly. For a while, I just sat there on the edge of my bed, laughing to myself, because of course my subconscious is a fucking asshole. Typical. I've always been my worst enemy; I just used to think you'd be there to help me fight it.

I hope I'll stop missing you soon.