Just A Dream

I stood waiting at the flag posts by the entrance. My anger subsided as I saw you approaching, swiftly burying itself into my subconscious as you came closer. You were here and I was happy.

But something was off. A look on your face indicated what I sensed as annoyance. Was I imagining things? But your body language reaffirmed my suspicions. You pushed me away and got straight to the point.

It’s over.

I lost all feeling in my body. A wave of shock, as powerful as a bolt of lightning, vibrated through me. When I finally built up the courage to look at you I saw an ominous look in your eyes. They were confidently staring back at me as if to further taunt my emotions.

I looked into your eyes — now so void of empathy. I pleaded for your feelings to come back. I knew they were still there. How could they not be, I thought? I still felt them pulsating through me.

I grabbed your arm, saying everything I needed to with just my eyes. They were always your favorite part about me. Whereas mine were yelling, yours remained silent.

It really was over. Our souls had detached, losing, in the process, the power to communicate telepathically like they once could. Without another word said, I understood.

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The heat finally woke me up. I put my hand to my forehead and felt beads of sweat clinging to me, allowing my hair the freedom to stick to my face. Another nightmare.

My body lay paralyzed as my thoughts raced. So deeply was the dream now imbedded within my subconscious that walking seemed a great feat. Another nightmare about you.

What went wrong? We said I love you before bed. I fell asleep thinking about you—my love for you, our time spent together, our future. The future.

Just like the future I have little control over the deeper levels of my subconscious. As I fell asleep, delving deeper into the abyss, my thoughts began to roam free. I stumbled, drunkenly falling deeper and deeper into them as a nightmare manifested itself in the depths of my mind.

It all felt so eerily real. I saw it happen; felt it happen. But I was here. Safe in my bed; safe from the phantoms my subconscious had subjected me to.

I text you, foolishly feeling the need for you to validate that none of this was real. That I truly had just dreamt it all. You broke up with me in my dream. I stay in bed until you answer, staring mindlessly at my ceiling. Just a dream is all you have to say back. Yet somehow, those words still aid in reassuring me.

I take a deep breath. In through my nose and out slowly through my mouth, repeating the mantra to myself as my body lazily regained its strength. It was just a dream, I remind myself. But as the day went on the words lost their strength. By the end, I myself barely believed them to be true.

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The date still sticks out in my mind. March 14—National Pi day. You were supposed to come over that night after work. But I should have known that you were never going to come. You hadn’t looked me in the eyes for weeks. Your soul had long ago lost its connection with mine.

I’m bad at eye contact, you claimed anytime I questioned you about it. But I knew. I knew and had only been lying to myself. I was scared, unable to admit that there was nothing left between us.

And so in the end, I was left alone. Standing at the flag posts by the entrance, with tears streaming down my face from eyes that still held enough love for the both of us.

It’s over.