Only in Dreams
We are in the same room, and he approaches me. An awkward scenario I had dreaded for a long, long time. When imagining it, I looked him in the eye and turned away. When it happens, I smile and stay.
He is uncomfortable with the decision, but determined. He has made a decision. And he holds me. In the absence of something better, something certain, I enjoy it, yeah, I welcome it. Suddenly we are somewhere else, all alone. And he cries. Perhaps I am flattered by it, or just surprised, maybe that is why I am so happy in this situation. He is lying down, and I sit next to him as he cries and makes no attempt to hide it. The apology is so sincere and so unexpected, so full of remorse and shame. "I can’t believe I did that to you. I can’t believe I said those things. I can’t believe it was me that sat by and watched it happen." He wipes his tears and its my turn to hold him. And I don’t care. The apology is magic, the tears on my skin a serum that cools my hate for him and all things associated with him. A potion for forgiveness? A love potion? Or simply a potion to cure the loneliness? Somehow it’s okay to forget about cruelness and welcome a familiar body that wants to hold you.
And me? I can’t believe I am happy. I can’t believe that I betrayed all principles, all pride and all good sense for a stream of tears.
So I woke up disgusted. I wanted to spit every remnant of his memory out on the floor. Then I saw that I was here. In my bed. By myself, and the only person I’d let down was my feverridden unconscious self. Still, a wake up call and a warning of unlikely future events. In every kind of way.
