I Don't Dream Much

Last night was the first time I remembered a dream in months. Whatever fate out there decided that this dream is the one that comes through is cruel. I just read a blog where a girl dreamt that Brad Pitt was at her door and asked her to babysit all his children. At the end of her story, she complained that she has the most boring dreams. Well, I'll trade you.

This is mine:

I'm alone and driving to the beach. I'm going to see Tyler, who I somehow know wants to see me, but at the same time I remember being sure that he doesn't want me back. When I arrive, every one of his friends that I have ever met, even the acquaintances, even the people I only met once, are gathered on the lawn. I stroll up to Tyler, who is lounging by his car, and I display all the ease that I do not feel and fool everyone, except for him. Funny, that's exactly how that situation would play out in real life. He and I go inside and it is the house that I knew, only sharper. As if the stairs are steeper, the corners more pointy, the hardwood floors more slick. And there are more stories and more rooms. Specifically, I remember being confused because Tyler switched to a different bedroom. This is where it gets explicit. We start to have sex and all of the sudden, I have my period. But it looks like what I would imagine a miscarriage would look like. I won't go into details. He doesn't get upset, he just looks disgusted and goes to get towels.

I wake up after that. And the ridiculous thing, the thing that makes me wonder if this will ever end, is this: I WANT to go back to sleep. I want to be back in that dream, no matter how upsetting its events are. The strange thing, is that when I wake up, I'm not sad, I'm HAPPY. I remember drowsily thinking that it was nice to just see his face again. Even if it's for one more time. I drift off to sleep, concentrating on the dream, and soon find myself back in it. Only this time, I can't recall much happening. I'm walking into his house again and it's later in the day. I'm either with my parents or Moneek, I can't remember. Tyler is gone when we go inside, but his roomate John is there. I tell him Tyler said we could use his pool. John says alright, and doesn't seem to think that's out of the ordinary.

Then I wake up and go to work. I want this all to end, but I'm the one who keeps it going. The songs that I hear, the places that I see, even some people, it all reminds me of him. But the thing is, I'm the one who let's myself be reminded. I want to get to that point where nothing is upsetting. Where memories are just memories and not catalysts for nervous breakdowns. It's infuriating that just when I think I've gotten to that point, I have a dream like this.

I have gotten into the habit of trying to end even the most upsetting blog entries on a happy note. This is what I've got: it's the bad times, the ones that make you cringe, that throw into light how lucky you really are when the good times find you. They compliment each other, like opposites on the color wheel. Red is more brilliant next to green, purple more vibrant next to yellow. Without one, the other would still exist, it would just seem more dull.