Ok, so I know you guys don’t really care about my dreams, because, well, they’re weird and they’re mine and why do I always have to talk about myself? But sit back, because I’m going to tell you about last night’s dream anyway…it’s one of those ones where you just feel sad all day because of it (even though it’s only 8:17am…but whatever…8am / all day = same thing).
I was at a picnic with my friend Amy and her husband, playing with their son, Ben. Ben was about four (he’s really just a baby right now) and we were playing catch. All of a sudden, water started flowing down the hill and swept us away…luckily there was a fence that stopped us from washing out into nowhere, so I held Ben up above the water as best as I could. When the water had slowed, and we could stand on the ground again, they all started walking up the hill while I stayed below. I don’t know why I stayed, but when I looked up towards them, an avalanche of books came rushing down on top of me. The next thing I knew I was floating in the air looking down at every possible natural disaster destroying the world. When the fires had gone out, the water had dried, the earth stopped quaking, I was gently lowered onto a soft bed. My eyes were closed because I was terrified, but when I felt myself lowered onto the bed, I opened them hesitantly.
The sun was shining through a window, and someone was lying in the bed next to me. I asked them where I was, and they said, “Cleveland”. I looked out the window at bright pink buildings with rounded corners. Everything looked like a Dr. Seuss book. I ran around the foreign house looking for a telephone, and when I found one, I dialed information and asked for my ex-husband’s name. I wanted to find him to see if he made it through the change in the world, to make sure he was ok.
I woke up this morning, late…because the power had gone out. I am frustrated because my routine is all out of sorts and I feel discombobulated and now I am even more irritated because every time I think I am ready to move on with my life…I dream about him. I don’t know why I am sharing this with the internet, but I really don’t care…I have no secrets.
I wonder sometimes if God hasn’t sent me anyone to love because maybe I’ll never love anyone as much. Maybe I should just be grateful for what I’ve already been given in my life. I am grateful. Perhaps asking for even more is wrong to do.
When we see so much that we want everyday, how do we find the strength to be content with what we already have?
And how do you stop loving someone?
P.S. These are rhetorical questions…just sending them out into cyberspace to bounce around for awhile.