Search This Blog

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

I spy...

I had a few dreams last night. Of course, since I neglected to write about them earlier I now only remember two fragments of them.

In one, I lost one of my bottom front teeth. I only have three of them (was born without one of them, apparently) but I lost another one. Not sure how. Can't seem to remember it being painful, but I do remember feeling the gap and thinking to myself that now it would certainly look very strange to only have two teeth where four should be. 

In another, there was something like the MI6 (Wikipedia confirms I've got it right: that would be the organisation James Bond works for). I was at the headquarters' first floor, maybe at an exit. There were glass doors and walls and through one of them I saw a middle aged SmTn. He was looking my way and our eyes met for a brief moment. 

I wish I could say I remember what it was like and I wish I could say it was as sweet and sad and loving as I want to believe it was. But the truth is that I no longer remember. Maybe he just glanced my way and went along his merry way.

It's just... something occurred to me today. It changes nothing, of course. And it's actually not quite related to the dream. Except that it has to do with SmTn and my dreams about him. Those dreams I told him about? I maybe didn't quite get it exactly right when I said "I see a happy future for you that I'm not a part of" (if that's what I said or what he understood). I know that's what I thought, for a while there. And, your see, the thing is that in the dreams I told him about, the ones where his girlfriend is really happy to be engaged or where she's really nice to me... I remember her. Not him. I don't remember him being happy with her. I don't remember him being excited. I remember him arguing behind closed doors. I remember him upset and drunk and thinking of leaving her. I remember him smiling as he walked alongside me. 

It occurs to me just now that it's almost a valid reason to think I shouldn't have stopped talking to SmTn. I could have prevented the sort of heartbreak that makes you wish someone a happy Christmas alongside "Estranged." I could have him to talk to and to celebrate the small victories with. I could have him. Or, you know, I couldn't. Which is likely more accurate. Problem? He has a girlfriend. I was the emotional mistress. Problem? He wouldn't leave her for me. He wouldn't leave her. I couldn't ask him to. I could and maybe should have told him about my feelings... but those would ultimately change nothing. Such a display would be much like a gift: something freely given and for which nothing is expected in exchange. I could tell him, in so many words, that he'd owe me nothing. I could tell him he needn't say anything or do anything. I could just tell him what I needed to say and leave it at that. Problem? He may feel obligated to say something or do something foolish. Problem? This whole exchange is only happening in my head. While the thought did, for a moment, cross my mind, I don't suppose it would be very clever to mail him that postcard.

Problem? He's where all my happy thoughts lead to. Problem? It's not as inaccurate as you'd think to say the thought of him crosses my mind every waking minute.

This is no place to include the feedback I received from the group today, so I think I'll go ahead and keep that to myself until tomorrow, if you don't mind.

No comments:

Post a Comment