The first thing I did, was giving him the
biggest hug I could. It was amazing how I could feel his sweater against my
face, how I could feel his warmth through the fabric and hear his heart beating
beneath it. It was so real I cried, both in the dream and outside of it. I
don’t remember how long we stood there, but I do remember I started seeing him
in other places in my dreams, just running into him casually while he was
saying something nice about me or about what he felt for me. I was over the
moon.
Actually, the full moon loomed above us for
most of the dream; it was quite a beautiful sight. It was also nice to be able
to touch his hand and hold it out in the open, in front of all the people in
campus. Or at least I think it was a campus, it didn’t look anything like the
college I had been to years before. It was bigger and with more faces and nice
walkways lined with trees. And we would hold hands and just talk about movies
and laugh about silly gossips that we had heard about people we knew.
I have to say that, even then, I knew he
wasn’t real. I knew that I was dreaming but it all felt so real that I didn’t
mind. I knew what my real life was like and I wanted to have something
different for a change and it didn’t mattered if it could only be in a dream.
That’s why I tried to remember every single thing, repeating in my head as I
went through it, because I wanted to remember every single part of that
beautiful dream. I want to memorize his face, because somehow he was more than
real to me.
We even made love and he whispered in my ear
how much he wanted to make me feel pleasure. I know, maybe that’s too graphic
for some or to little information for others, but I have to say that also felt
amazing. I could almost say that I was moaning loudly in my room, in bed, while
we were having sex in the dream. We kissed a lot and he really seemed to care
for me while we were together. I think that’s what everyone one’s in a partner,
someone that really cares for you and who’s not there just to be there.
Afterwards, we lay there talking a bit. We
were tired and sweaty, but we couldn’t prevent our faces from grinning and
smiling. We were too happy not to express it with our souls. I remember
touching his face, feeling his stubble. He kissed my hand and then hugged me
and I felt I could drown in his smell. I still have in my head, and I hope it
never goes away. He kissed me like no one has kissed me before and, I have to
admit, that maybe no one will ever kiss like that. After all, I lived that
vivid dream in a moment but that’s all it was, it was just a dream, as unique
as it was.
When I woke up, I felt really good. I was
smiling and I didn’t feel tired or worn down. It was quite the opposite and it
has to be said that’s not very common. I usually feel I have just arrived from
running a marathon. But not that time. I knew the alarm would go off in any
minute, but that wasn’t important. My brain and even my body were still with
him, feeling his body against mine and every single feeling he felt towards me
rushing between both our beings. No idea if that makes sense at all.
As I was in the shower and putting on my
clothes, I thought of everything I had dreamt of. Some of it was already gone,
something that was bound to happen. But most of it was there, for me to think
about it over and over again. As I prepared to leave home for work, I realized
how silly I would sound to anyone if I told them I had fallen in love with an
imaginary person, with someone that only existed in my dreams. They would think
that I was going insane or something worse.
Then again, maybe I am. Maybe it is insane to
think that a person that you own mind created is simply not healthy. Even I can
say that it sounds crazy but I cannot stop thinking about him and about how he
made me feel. In the bus, standing up facing the window and looking at cars and
buildings pass, I realize that I don’t really care about what people think or
not. He made me happy and it doesn’t matter where it happened or if he was just
my mind creating him to make me feel less lonely.
I couldn’t afford not to care, not to recognize
he had been there. After all, I actually thought, for a moment, that maybe my
head had not created everything about him. Maybe humans are connected in ways
we do not yet understand and we were connected during that time. Maybe he
exists, somewhere, and maybe he’s also asking the universe what this all means.
I know how all of this sounds but sometimes you just have to believe in
something to keep going, in order not to crumble and just give up.
And I have to believe the love of my life is
out there somewhere and that he’s thinking of me too. I would love to know if
the face I saw in my dream is the same as the one in reality, but he will
surely be thinking the same thing. I’ve found myself hoping he’s not very
disappointed, because I’m not exactly a top model or anything like that. But
maybe worrying about such a thing is just stupid, because he probably worries
too about what he looks like. If he just knew I would love give him a hug and
just feel him close to me, maybe that would make his worries disappear.
Meanwhile, real life is going on as usual. I
go to work and I go back home, I sometimes cook and write and do things to pass
the time. But every now and then I find myself thinking about him. However,
after a while, I just think about how lonely I feel and how nice it would be to
have someone close to tell him all my worries and my problems and to laugh and
be idiots at the same time. I sometimes think about that and it makes me sad
because and over thirty and that hasn’t happened yet.
I’m the first one to say age doesn’t mean shit
but the older you are whenever you finally get to meet that wonderful person,
the less time you will have with them. And that scares me a lot, because I want
more than a few good years with someone. Shit! After so many years of avoiding
any kind of emotional attachment to others, I find myself in a position in
which I would be ecstatic if I could feel something for someone else. It would
be hard and strange and new, but it could be worth the shot.
But life doesn’t work by wishing, or I would
have met him several years ago, when I was more of an innocent kid that ever
before or after. I was someone else and that guy really believed in
possibilities. Me, not so much. I know that the dream is just a dream and that,
even if there’s a possibility he could be real, that doesn’t mean everything
would just work according to my imagination or some kind of plan. You don’t
plan life because she will never let you. She’s tougher than that, always.
Anyways, I want to keep dreaming about him. He
made me happy, he made me smile. No one achieved that in a while and I want
that here, with me. I know how it sounds and how it looks, but I’m the kind of
tired that has to use his imagination to go forward. Reality is not the kindest
to me, although it could always be worse. That’s why I dream of him, because
even if things really go south, I would have someone nearby to really live
with, in every single of the word. And that word means hell of a lot.
My only hope now is that, somehow, I can see
him again in my dreams. I feel like I’ve done that before so, maybe, it could
happen again. Maybe this time we could go out dancing or singing before going
to his place and have sex. Because that’s something I’m not willing to give up.
I go to bed tonight thinking… No, I go to bed
wishing I will see him again. And then I shed a tear and realize how silly,
childish and stupid this is. But I don’t have anything else to hold on to. Real
or not, I really need him right now and I just know he will come. After all, we
are in love.
