I dreamt of him last night.
It took me by surprise, though this isn’t the first time. Each time he has come to me in my sleep he is asking for help. He is dejected. He is alone. I can’t be the one to help him.
When things leave us, things that once brought us love, we never stop loving those lost things. We only learn to live with a new love. A different love. A love that is currently being interrupted by unwelcome dreams.
I believe when we dream of people we’ve known, people we’ve loved, they are somehow present, somehow engaged, & somehow aware of our meeting in our subconscious. I also serendipitously believe in numbers & dates. During our time together he claimed to identify with threes, myself fours. This morning is March 4th.
If there was a time for saving, it has surely passed. These dreams are no longer dreams at all but a spontaneous haunting. I reject the idea completely. The notion that I should be some form of rescue for him leaves me befuddled, befuddled & amused. How can one save a stranger? It’s bizarre. I don’t know him, nor do I wish for such meddlesome dreams. He isn’t the person I knew long ago, why should I dream of him coming to me for extraction from his fate?
I laugh at myself. I laugh at the idea that she & I could have interest in the same man since we are severely different women. What I require of a man will never match her expectations. The man I loved was nothing like the one who stands before her now. That man isn’t one I am interested in saving. It is a disservice to me to entertain thoughts of us loving one man, which was never the case, for he quickly transformed from one version of himself to another. Like a chameleon changing colors to adapt to a different environment. I could never entertain such paradoxical behavior in a man.
My heart is one of compassion toward the demoralized man who comes to me in my sleep, but I can’t save you dear.