The Dream Remains a Dream

Woke up this morning from a strange, yet, sweet dream.

I finally dreamt of you after weeks of silence. What made me subconsciously think of you... this way... again? I don't know.

No doubt about it, a day never ends without a moment where you suddenly cross my mind. Although, for the past few days, I've been pretty successful in thinking of you less often than I used to (which was almost 24/7).

Bewildered and dumbfounded in my bed, I lay awoken from a dream that felt so real. Yet, I realized that the very idea of being with you again, that way, is nothing short of a mere fantasy.

I slowly but surely recounted the scenes, the images, the words that were still fresh in my memory. These "moments" that left me yearning for you.

The scenes were vivid and clear.

I was leaving the place where artists gathered. It seemed like a bar to me or a restaurant where we normally hold meetings about future projects.

On my way out, after realizing that I could not take seeing and being around you anymore, I slowly headed out.

I froze to the sound of your voice. I turned to look and there you were. Your smile, your touch, painfully kept me still, mesmerized.

As I struggled to pretend not to mind the power you have over me, you handed me a hand-sized pouch. This pouch contained pictures of us together. Just you and me.

Apart from this, as if those pictures didn't do enough to my heart, you handed me a letter. a piece of paper that expressed your sentiments. This beacon of truth that said words unspoken.

These gestures brought me to euphoria. You stood over my head, looked down on me, playfully, as you would be. With guts that gave me the will to seize the moment, I reached for your lips and gave it a kiss. A smack. Something I never dared to do, in reality, at least.
You were shocked, but not disappointed. In fact, you smiled.

However, the sweet dream turned sour when you revealed news that left me shattered: you impregnated someone you only spent one intimate night with.

What made it worse for me (I guess) was the fact that you were starting to develop feelings for that... that... whore.

I was crushed and it was obvious. And like always, you were concerned about how I felt.

"Are you mad?"

I mean, seriously? What did you expect me to say?

With barely a heart to keep, I pulled myself together and mustered the confidence to tell you this calmly.

"Just in case you're interested to know, go to my blog. Read the post on Every Scar Has a Story. It's my letter to you."

An interruption.

A knock on the door. It's my brother.

Time to wake up, Sara.

Time to wake up.