He said that loving me felt like music and as he rested his hands on mine I knew that I would always find my way to him. That every person I would love, every song I would compose, every moment of passion ignited was preparing me for moment his hands touched mine. “Depending on choices made you will meet each other.” And with that I woke up. Yeah, you guessed it; this was another one of my crazy dreams.
I can see my sister rolling her eyes and saying impatiently, “Dude, you need to live here and now not in some imaginary place…” and perhaps she has a point. Perhaps I am just an idiotic woman who needs something to cling too after every notion of love has been cast aside. Maybe I am no different from those silly girls addicted to the Twilight books and soapies. Maybe I need to finally grow up and take a hard look at the world I find myself in. Or maybe, just once I should reclaim those dreams and allow them to infuse my waking life. It is rather jarring – the remembrance of that love. At times I feel the loss of it so keenly. I wake up aching for the sound of his laughter as it ricochets off the walls of our home, his arms encircling me, his lips brushing the top of my head… this tall beautiful man. And honestly, that is the only clue I have….he is taller than I.
Romantic drivel aside…where does that leave me realistically speaking? Although I am a jovial person and at times an outrageous flirt, I do question my ability to give and receive love. So I tend to shoot down most men and all notions of love. I like my men to have balls – and sizable ones at that. Preferably attached to a tall lean man. Until then I will stay in the good company of my delectable sex toy whom I affectionately call Lazarus! On a serious note I often I wonder “How can I speak of love when I feel no romantic love, when I can barely recall what being desired feels like?” And when those sickening moments of doubt surface, if I am lucid enough, I close my eyes; search my mind until I find myself on that bench, his hand gracing mine.
Yes, perhaps I am crazy and in need of psychiatric evaluation but once I dreamed of being a musician. Once I sat in the bath, my knees tucked closely to my chest, my voice barely audible above the rising waters – the only place I dared to sing. Once I lay on my bed as my daughter lay sleeping and day dreamed…there were no applause or adoring fans. I stood alone on an empty stage, took a deep breath and allowed the song to find its place within me. All of my “once” moments where inspired by dreams and they have lead me to this place right here, right now with you reading this blog post and listening to my music. So maybe I am not that crazy after all…