Desperation

I stopped having dreams about You.
I stopped feeling him.
I stopped smelling him.
I tried forcing myself to dream of him.
But nothing worked.
I began to panic that maybe something had changed.
So, I sent my friend a text message one night.
(My friend is currently residing in Boston, so I don't see him too often. But as of late, we've been talking more and he has been kept up to date on my love situation simply so he understands my ranting.)

Me: "I haven't had a dream about him in weeks. I don't know what to think of it. I don't know if I should think anything of it. But it scares me. And I feel lost. I wish this month would be up. I wish I had answers. I wish I just had a friggen dream!!"

Boston: "Well, it might mean something. But, I mean, it's just a dream. And just look at it like this, if You doesn't want you, I always will. Yet another reason why we should date."

Boston and I have this ongoing joke about how we should date. Actually, I should say Boston has this ongoing joke that we should date. Everyday he'll send me anywhere from 1-5 reasons via text why we should date. One of my favorites: "I already know you're crazy! We're already ten steps ahead!"

Me: "But the dreams are what get me by. And ha. ha. You're hilarious."

Boston: "I know. You're going to hit me next time you see me. I'm sure you'll have a dream soon. Your lack of sleep probably has something to do with the lack of dreams, by the way. Get some sleep."

I closed my eyes at 4:30 AM. When I opened them, I was laying in bed with You.

I looked over at him and crawled closer to his body. He looked at me and smiled as he wrapped an arm around me. I reach up and kissed his lips. His hand reached up to my face and held me there. I felt his lips curve into a smile which spread to mine.

"Why are we doing this?" You asked.

"I don't know. I miss you." I answered continuing to kiss his perfect lips.

"So, can we just-"

"Be together?" I finished his sentence.

We smiled and I felt claws dig into my feet.

My eyes flew open and my body convulsed as the pain shot through my entire body.

The one thing I hate about spending the night in new places is the way their pets react. I happened to be spending the night at my friends' boyfriends' apartment down in Red Bank. They inherited this cat when my friends' RA discovered him in their apartment at school due to their idiot of a roommate. I don't hate cats. But this is not a cat. It's a bastard. (That's actually what I call him.) He's perfectly fine when the sun is up. I've seen him lash out and attack other people but normally he'll leave me alone after I give him some attention.

I picked the black and white cat up by his scruff and flung him out of the room. I laid back down and that's when it hit me. I felt my face light up and I forced myself back to sleep. I will never stay over that apartment again as long as that cat is crazy.

Safety

You and I are driving in a black Bentley. We're driving down familiar roads with three others in the car. One being a mutual friend, another my cousin, and the last my brother but 13 years younger.

In my dream I knew we were driving to the beach and I was responsible for my infant brother. We arrived at a two level house with four bedrooms on the top floor. Each bedroom contained at least two beds. My friend and cousin were lost in the house and my baby brother was fast asleep.

I placed him in another room in a cradle and You and I found another room with one bed. As I heard the rest of my family start to fill each room in the lower half of the house, I laid down. You laid down next to me and moved in close. He put a bare arm around me and I took in that smell. The intoxicating smell filled my nostrils and my eyes teared up. He looked down at me with those brown eyes that got me every time and pulled me closer.

We laid there for what felt like forever. I cried the whole time and he just held me. Neither or us said a word in fear that we would ruin the moment. You leaned his head down and kissed my forehead. I looked up, make up running from my green eyes. I stretched my neck as far up as I could and he met my lips in the little space that was left between us. Our bodies were entangled together and our lips were finally met. You placed a hand on my face and he kissed me deeper. His lips filled me with love and warmth. My tears stopped and I looked up at him.

Our eyes were locked and for the first time, my lips curved up into a smile.

I woke up once again with the feeling of his arms and body wrapped around mine. At this point, I've picked up that the less I move the longer the feeling will stick with me. I tried to close my eyes to go back to sleep, but my alarm kept screaming at me that I wasn't allowed to be this happy until the 30th. I got my little taste. That would get me through the following few days.

I still laid there not moving, taking in every feeling that I was left with.

Back On Track

Just needed to get that out last night.
I feel better, now.
But I still have some important issues to touch upon.
I still have to prove myself.

New dream posted later.

Off Topic

You were never there for me.
All you ever did was make me feel useless.
This is how it's supposed to be.
You fucked up "our time".
I'm hurting once again because of you.
But this is the last time.
Ever.

Onto more important things and people in my life.
And I honest to god mean it this time.

I'm done asking for forgiveness.
I'm done hoping you'll see what I really need.
I'm done with this bullshit excuse for a relationship or friendship or whatever.
From here on out,
what happens, happens for a reason.

I hope he can forgive me.

That's when the hurting will really stop.

Mending the Wounds

My last dream was the last one I had before I finally started to try and seriously fix my problem.

This is the dream that's kept my head above water.

I don't know how to read music, but I have a really good ear for a tune when I hear it. I've been known even since I was little to just sit at a piano and pick out the melody of a song I've heard. You makes another appearance in this dream. You plays piano beautifully. I would go to his Church on Sunday's just to listen to him play. Sometimes, I would even get to hear him sing. He's confident in his talents, just as he should be. Although, I'm not quite sure if I've ever let him know how much I really enjoyed just listening to him.

I'm sitting in You's work out room/dining room/new bedroom. (The room has changed several times since I've known him.) The ever changing room has red walls and a large window that leads out to the driveway in front of the house. I'm sitting in front of a silver keyboard. The black stool I'm sitting on is large enough for two but, for now, is only occupying one.

I flip the switch on the keyboard, and adjust the volume. I place a finger with a polished fingernail on one of the white plastic keys. The touch was smooth but soft. My finger belonged there, but I still felt wary and thought I would embarrass myself.

My fingers touched more keys, playing the only song they could remember from my High School piano class. (And, no, it was not Chopsticks.) Then I felt it again. I felt the warmth of his body against my back and his arms on either side of mine. Then his face was there, level with mine. He started to play another melody. One that was very familiar to my ears. A sweet song that reminded me of the beach at night, the feeling of two beings fitting together perfectly, the feeling of security, and that warm feeling that I got whenever I was near You.

My hazel eyes looked up into his brown and I smiled. You sat down on my right and kept an arm around my waist. My body was filled with that warm feeling and my nose was filled with the sweet smell that was his. The smell that brings back the fondest memories of being close to him. The one I miss every time I'm laying on my couch or in my bed. The smell danced around my nose and up into my brain which triggered a little movie to play for me when my eyes shut.

"Here. Try this," You said as he grabbed my hand.

The nerves in my hand sparked and my lips curved up into a smile. My eyes shut as he played a tune with my hand

The ocean was black and the sky was empty. The cool grains of sand squished between my painted toes. The lights from the town behind us barely touched the beach. Maybe we'd be able to see that meteor shower from here after all.

"I'll race you," I said with a smile on my face.

I started to run without his response. I knew he'd chase me. He loved running. We didn't have a real destination, so I stopped at the first lifeguard stand. I let him crash into me and tried to hold my own ground. I shifted on my feet but he was able to catch both of us. I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up into his, handsome, moonlit face. I could barely see him. But as my hand reached up to touch his face, I could feel his scruff from lack of shaving and I could feel his eyes smiling down at me. I rose up onto my tip toes and met him half way. My lips touched his and every nerve in my body shot out a signal.

I opened my eyes as he let go of my hand. I couldn't play what he had taught me so he played it instead. I tried to mirror his dancing fingers, but could only catch random bits and pieces. I stopped and listened before I started to hum. This song had no words, just sounds.

My voice carried through the tune You played. The beautiful sound was completed when You harmonized my hums with his own healing notes. We continued together and looked at each other with smiles painted across our face.

I hate waking up sometimes. This was one of those times. But I woke up with that warm feeling filling my chest. That sinking feeling was gone. My dream saved me. You and I have never had a moment quite like this. Usually he would play and I would sing. So, the knowledge that this was not a memory lifted my spirits and eased my broken heart. This was a sign.

I'm not disregarding this sign.

Ashes to Ashes

I hate funerals. But for some reason, I found myself reliving one that I had known already happened. Back in March, My Grandmother passed away. I went through the whole thing on top of dealing with school and chauffeuring my younger brother back and forth to his middle school production of Beauty and the Beast.

I am a part of a family that is full of women. Crazy, neurotic, and caring women. Every time my family gets together, there is always an argument. The sister's are either fighting with each other or the wives are having snippy little fights under their breathes with their husband's about something one of the sisters said hours ago. And of course, the most famous in this case was, "Your mother just died. Why can't you just drop it?" For some reason, those words always create more trouble then they're worth. But, regardless of all the garbage and negativity that happens when my family gets together, we all eventually enjoy each others company.

In this particular dream, my quarreling aunts did not make an appearance. Not even as extra's. No one in my family did, actually.

I was standing in a pew with...we'll call him You. He wore a black suit jack, black pants, black dress shoes, a black tie, and a white button up shirt. He looked cool, calm, and collected, just as he always does. He towered over me even in my high heels and he stood close to me, holding my hand. The service had ended and we were just standing there. I looked up at him and said, "We don't have to do this. We can fix it."

His brown eyes looked down at me. They were sad and his mouth said, "No. It's destroyed."

Our dialogue continued as such for what felt like forever. And the more the words that escaped his lips pushed me away, his body pulled me closer and held me tighter.

Our bodies moved to the lobby where there were red velvet plush seats and an old Victorian era mirror. We stood in front of it just looking at one another. He continued to keep me close with his body and push me away with his words. The feeling of being torn in both directions made my heart begin to break.

"I won't let you go," I said as I wrapped my arms around him.

With my arms overlapping his I could feel him sigh. Tears streamed down my face but my eyes remained open. I could feel a gust of wind. It was slow and steady. Ashes began to cover You's suit jacket. I could tell that they were cigarette ashes.

He looked down at me as my small hands brushed the soft cotton of his jacket.

"I really can't," he said with an even tighter squeeze.

I brushed off more of the falling ashes and asked, "Have you been smoking again?"

My eyes opened. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and could still feel the squeeze his arms left around me. I realized that it never mattered if his words were pushing me away in reality or in my dreams. I still cried. It still hurt. I still never wanted to let go of him. The sinking feelings made me sick all day and I never wanted the feeling of him holding on to leave me. It took me hours just to get out of bed.

His arms eventually let go. I've never quite lost that sinking feeling.

Held at Gun Point

I am running with a group of people into a house. I think I'm in Jersey City since the house slightly resembles my Grandparents. But I notice that we're all being taken captive and locked in a laundry room. And by locked, I mean I just can't open the accordion door. Everyone is crying when a man bursts in with a gun. I begin yelling at him to just let us go and I find myself standing in front of the group. After plenty of arguing, several gunshots, and finally killing the man holding us hostage in the laundry room, we escape. We're running through the house, towards the front door. The closer I get to the front door, the sicker I become. Something is not right but I can't seem to figure out what.

I'm about the run past the staircase that is located near the front door when I see a man hiding. He is wearing all black and has his gun out and ready for me. As I make eyes contact with him, he pulls the trigger. I hear the gunshot and before I know it, the bullet goes into my throat. I feel the pain of the metal murderer hitting the center of my neck. I drop to my knees and then land face first onto the off white carpet. The pain is unbearable but I can't make a sound. All I'm doing is laying there crying. I hear voices behind me trying to make a plan to move me onto a couch. I assume the people that were behind me shot my killer and want to move me somewhere until paramedics arrive. Panic sets in when I feel this warm liquid streaming down my neck and face. The pain is unbearable and I am convinced that I'm going to die.

Then there is silence. I'm still face down, staining this stranger's carpet with my blood. I realized I can stand but I still feel like I'm in danger. I run outside and find my car. I procure the keys out of my pocket and jump in, never minding the bloody mess that I am dripping everywhere and have destroyed my white tank top with. I drive for what seems like seconds, but I know I got far enough away. I'm at my old job and am trying to get help. I feel like the shooter is still after me. I'm running around begging for help but no one will oblige. No one even notices the blood stains all over my body. I run back out into the parking lot and find my friend Jon. I jump into his car and climb into the backseat. I am telling him the what happened when I see my shooter and learn his true identity. Jon is too busy with his cell phone, though, to care that my own Step Father is trying to shoot me. He finds me in the car and takes me to the back of the building. It appears to be a Holiday Inn sort of establishment but it also has a hospital attached.

We begin to walk through the hotel and he's grabbing my arm and twisting it when no one else is looking. We walk through a row of shower's and I feel my wound open up and the blood starts oozing out once more. We get to the hospital, I'm put in a room, and once I am alone with the nurse, I try to scream. I try to tell her that he's trying to kill me. But all she does is lay me down.

My eyes meet his through the glass and I scream.

I'm back to reality. I wake up and I clamped my hand over my throat. It hurts so bad.

I've to the conclusion that I don't want to get shot in my dreams anymore.

The Beginning

Someone told me a few months back that I should try and get back into writing. So, of course, at 12:07 on a Monday morning I decide to go through with this suggestion. Having never written a blog before, I don't really know what to expect or what I expect to come from my efforts. Perhaps it's just the idea of getting my writing started up once again. I'm not searching to earn money through this. I'm not searching to earn followers who religiously check my blog to see what I've done next. (Okay, maybe that's a lie.) I believe that maybe this will help me through the following days of my torturous hiatus.

As a twenty-one year old, single, female, I find myself struggling a lot. Struggling with money, with keeping up with my social life, and even keeping up with what society expects me to do within in the next year of my life. I'm not an ugly person by any means, but I struggle with the little things about my looks that I feel hold me back from so much. I'm not obese, either. In fact, just last summer I lost the thirty (Yes, thirty) pounds I gained in my freshman year of college. I have honestly never felt better about my body before in my life. But despite my confidence, I still find myself feeling plain and boring and needing to force myself to stand out in a crowd. I find beauty in the strangest things in life, and at times I want others to see that same beauty.

For example, today at work I saw a baby. Now, I'm not the kind of person that loves children and wants a child anytime soon, and this baby was by no means cute or beautiful. The child's head was almost a perfect circle, but was very chubby. The hair on top of his head was so minimal that the baby still looked like an alien. But the strangest part was that this infant's eyes, nose, and mouth were all mashed together in the exact center of his face. Not a cute baby. However, as the babies father walked passed my friend and I with him in his arms, I couldn't help but see how beautiful the baby truly was. I still cannot find the words to even try and explain why I saw that or thought such a thing. But it's just the fact that I can find something like that as beautiful when no one else around me can.

Another major insecurity I have is that I am so terribly frightened of being alone. And these past thirteen days have honest to god scared the living hell out of me. I am in a place where I have feelings for a person who I know feels the same way back but I have possibly destroyed anything we could have had. The only hope I have in fixing my huge mistake is by giving him what he asked for originally and that is space. There have been days where I don't think I'm going to make it until June 30. Days where I almost convince myself that I need to contact him. But I don't. I want this to play out exactly as it should. I want this to work. I want to fix my mistakes and I see now that the number one way is by just leaving the situation alone. I like to fix things. Or at least think I fix things. So, right now, the hardest thing for me to do is leave this alone since this person has become such a huge piece of me. Not seeing him is killing me. Not speaking to him and telling him every little things about my day is driving me absolutely up the wall. Yes, I have friends (who have heard about these issues many a time) and I love them and keep them as close to my heart as I can. But sometimes you get that connection with someone else. A connection that once the ties are severed, nothing is the same. And you know that it becomes a problem when the person floods your dreams.

All I can do is wish and pray for is that on June 30, everything is right. (And by right I mean I'm where I know I should be with this person.)

My dreams are partially why I started this blog. I have so many and remember so few. But the one's I do remember, I remember so vividly. So, I guess these dreams are like presents on Christmas. You unwrap them, not knowing what you're going to get. It could be something you hate. But it could be exactly what you asked for.
My dreams, as painful as they are at times, are what save me. I get doubts that my whole world is crashing down. (This has been happening especially since I recently cut a very important person out of my life.) I get doubts that this pain is all I'm going to feel for the rest of my life. And then I think about my dreams. I think about how I wake up still seeing them and tasting them and feeling them. I remember that all of the bad will only last a little longer. It's only when I open my eyes that I see that I'm fine. (At least temporarily.)
So from here on out, I'll only write about my dreams.

I guess I have some catching up to do.