10-30 Dream State

I dreamed about you last night, Dorian.

I dreamed you did all the things you said you would. You traveled the world. You had a strong group of friends. You wrote and explored and bettered yourself as a person.

And I was proud of you.

I watched you grow from a distance, and I was proud that you had finally found your way. I wanted to be a part of it, but I wasn't, and that was okay.

When I woke, I missed you, briefly. I missed that dream person. The one you pretended to be, and had finally become.

I lay in the haze and fuzz of early morning and the memory of the dream faded away to reality.

I remembered how you spoke sharply to me. How no matter what I did, you seemed on-edge. How I became afraid to say anything, or to not say anything, because no matter what I did, to you it was wrong that I was speaking or not speaking, telling or not telling. I couldn't even touch you without some complaint on your part. I touched your face wrong, I stroked your back incorrectly.

How you carried this anger and jealousy inside you and I felt it vibrating like the tines of tuning fork, and how it made my body vibrate and my blood shake and my nerves a tightly wound ball of energy worry and fear.

How you told her how angry and cruel and mad I was, and then came home and crawled into my arms and told me it was the only place you belonged.

What do I miss? There's so little left for me. I was reluctant to give it up for so long, but now I shut my brain down when it starts to chew on your memories. The good ones are gone. The ones in the very beginning, when you were chasing me, when it was fun for you. That was long ago, and they're fading. They've been replaced.

I like that I can say the words on my mind. I like this breathing kind of love. Not love yet, no, far too soon, but the hint of it is there. A suggestion of possibility.

I want a love where I can relax. Where words can flow freely and my blood can move comfortably. I like this level of space. I can orbit, touch base, return to my own movement, and he seems to do the same. I like two lives and two people interacting gently.

I like that he apologizes when he's upset me.

I like that he cares when he's upset me.