The other night was the night I dreamed of an ex. I only had three past failed relationships in my entire life. The first one–even with our tumultuous Romeo and Juliet kind-of-thing and a history together — don’t even count. I dreamed of the boy I fell in love with and had broken my heart. And although I knew from the start that there wouldn’t be a happy ending for us, I still plunged in head over heels. Yet, as serious as I was with him, nobody knew the real depth of emotion I felt, not even him. I hid my feelings from anyone. I knew even then, he really didn’t feel the same way about me. Sure I know he felt something. Like. Lust. And maybe some tinge of love. But nowhere near how I felt for him. So Anyways, that was a long time ago. Exactly fifteen years ago. I had moved on and moved past from that time of my life and been married for almost eleven years now.
It was strange to dream of someone I haven’t thought of for years. Stranger still to feel long ago emotions again where I still feel something for a boy I once loved in that weird dream of mine. It was like being in that moment where I still loved my ex. But what weirded me out was that in that dream, my ex was as young as when I knew him then and I was like I am now–a woman in her mid 30s–and feeling the same feelings I had for him thirteen years past. Yikes!
And now after hours from that dream, I’m having some sort of hangover. Where I didn’t think or much less care how he was before that dream, I now wonder what became of him and feel a prick of sadness for the girl I once was and the love I had for him. It’s like I’m feeling the tiniest hint of the past pain when I’m actually really happy and in love with the person I ended up with. Stupid weird dream that was.