She sees him up ahead waiting to cross the street and starts running so she can catch him before the light changes. He is wearing his rubber rain boots with his pants tucked into them, and his beard seems to catch fire in the last bit of setting sun. Her heart starts beating faster—from running or from seeing him, she can’t quite figure out. She reaches him just as the sign changes to walk and she grabs his shirt so he can’t start across. When he turns around she throws her arms around him. She is so happy. They spin around and she is able to see back towards the direction she just ran from. And she sees him standing there as well, but clean shaven, and with a look of such betrayal—like she had just broken his heart and punched him in the stomach and kicked his puppy all at the same time. She breaks her hold and runs to this version, not questioning how he can be in two places at once. She throws her arms around him, her heart beating even faster than before.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she repeats, as if it is the only thing she has the words to say.
His look of betrayal begins to mix with disgust. He peels her arms from around his neck and pushes her away.
“Do you even know what love is?” he asks.
And then I woke up.
The she is me, of course. And the him is—well a handful of you can figure that one out. It’s a telling dream I think, about appearance versus reality. About what draws us to certain people in the beginning and what we have the potential to learn about them over time. If we’re willing to learn that is. And if we’re willing to pay attention.
It is also a dream about myself.
I’m a pretty even tempered person most of the time. I do have moments, though, when my emotions roll over me like a tsunami and there is absolutely no controlling what I do. I can’t stop the things that come out of my mouth. And god forbid I have the dexterity to type a text message or an email while these emotions are wrecking havoc on my life. I ride a wave of euphoria for awhile and when the tide pulls back I’m left standing on an empty beach staring at the aftermath of what I’ve done.
Do I know what love is?
No. Not really. I thought I did. But I don’t. Not that kind of love. I know obsession. I know lust and mistrust. I know about control and how to lose myself in what someone else wants me to be. But real love? I don’t have a clue.
But I hope it’s not too late to learn.
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