Tag Archives: love

Transformation

It is a strange thing when you are dreaming but it seems so real. I sat in the chair and I listened to every problem she had. There was boyfriend drama and tears. I gave her a hug and told her everything would be okay. I laughed with her and I cried with her. I think the moment I realized it was a dream was the moment I got angry.

She was sitting on my floor staring up at me. She said that he cheated on her and deep inside of me I felt this pain. It was pain leftover from when I had been cheated on. I felt it escape that box that we hide our unwanted emotions in. I felt it spread throughout my entire body and fill me to the brim with an intense sense of hurt. After that I felt anger. How dare he? We were in love! We were dating for three years; we were supposed to get married! Everything hurt. I felt myself roll over in reality but I was stuck in this dream. I could not escape.

“Let’s go find him,” I said. I felt the anger travel to my eyes and pierce right into hers. She nodded and grabbed my hand so I could help pull her up from the floor. It was then that I realized I had been drinking. The room spun for a second but I caught myself and followed her out of the room.

The next thing I knew I was standing before him.

“What is wrong with you?” I whispered. I was projecting my emotions onto him, trying to get him to feel the pain that I felt… that she felt. I had somehow transformed into her and we became a unit of anger. I couldn’t even see her. I was just angry FOR her.

He looked at me, eyes dead center with mine and stated: “I think you are asking the wrong question. There is nothing wrong with me. What is wrong with you?”

And then I woke up.

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The Lighthouse

I am in a lighthouse. I am standing in a large window with no glass, its like an inverted balcony overlooking the ocean. It is dark outside so all I can see is the light cast from the lighthouse and then a vast darkness far beyond what I can comprehend. It looks lonely out there. I remember thinking that if I could go anywhere in the world it would not be out there. I would miss people. Just as this thought crosses my mind I feel a hand slide across my lower back. This is such an intimate gesture. For a second I find myself a little confused. Then I look to the left, the opposite way the hand moved, and see a man standing there. Even in this dream-like state my consciousness thinks “you were on the bus!” His dark brown hair is mussed atop of his head and I find my hand reaching out to tangle it even more. My back is to the open window but I know that I will be okay. I trust this man more than I could possibly explain.

“Why is the universe so cruel?” I ask, looking into his hazel eyes. He smiles, which confuses me. “Don’t smile! I’m serious!”

“I am too,” he pauses, biting his lip. I watch as his smile travels into his eyes. “I don’t think the universe is cruel. I think it is right. We may not be allowed to be together in public but that’s okay… because it is the small, intimate moments such as this that make me like you so much. Yes, I want to be able to shout it to the world… actually…” He stops and looks right at me. I know he can see me. Every part of me.

He turns, puts his hands in a cup-like motion around his mouth, and yells “I AM IN LOVE WITH ASHLY BLAKE” and I listen in astonished silence as his words echo through the lighthouse and across the vast, lonely ocean.

And then I woke up.

Worth Fighting For

We were walking down the street. He turned, looked at me and said “Ash, please be with me” and I stopped. I looked at him for a moment and this large pool of guilt flashed through my entire body. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to think about.” If I said yes to him then I would be letting someone else go and at that very moment I did not know who would be worth fighting for.

And then I woke up.

What I should do versus What I want to do

I’m on the bus. It is a normal, yellow bus. I’m not quite sure where we are going or why we are there but I am sitting beside a man. He is an attractive man. He has brown shaggy hair and I know who he is but I cannot say who he is. We are not supposed to be together because our best friends would be very angry. We are holding hands. Our hands are on the seat, squished between our thighs. No one can see; no one is allowed to see. We sit like strangers on a bus in the middle of a large city. I look out the window. I can’t look at him because I know we can’t be together. As much as I want to cherish this moment, I know that I should not enjoy it. The bus comes to a stop and my body jolts forward. There, standing on the curb, in the pouring rain is the man that I am supposed to be with.

And then I woke up.