The joke's on me

It was the most unexpected dream, no doubt caused by a conversation I had with Becca last night at D’Haven, during which I had a momentary flashback which was later echoed in this dream. It was one of the most vivid dreams I had had in a long time, so real, in fact, that when I woke up I thought it had been real, that when I looked over I would see that it had been no dream. And I would realize that the past year had never happened, and I had been having a very long nightmare all along that I had finally been able to wake up from.

But when I looked over a few moments later, I resigned myself to the fact that it had, indeed, been only a dream. That everything is as it has always been, and, by my own hand, I would never again have the chance to fix what I had destroyed so long ago. And the knowledge of it made me want to assume a fetal position under the covers and weep and weep for the pain of the loss, the tragedy of hope gone wrong, and the anger of not being able to let go. All that stopped me from doing so was the fact that I would have to explain my sudden erratic behavior to the one person who does not deserve to suffer the pain of knowing of what I had done to myself.

And even though I had talked about it with Becca last night, it hit me harder after this dream that the one thing I’ve been dreading for the past two and a half months is the one thing that I need to happen. As much as it may hurt, it’s the one thing that will help make me learn to let everything go, to put everything in the little mental box in the back of my mind and seal it away for good. And now that a part of me knows — or at least feels very strongly — that it has already happened, all I need is the little stab of pain to tell me that it is true.

Because dreams are merely dreams, and this one was perhaps the cruelest joke God has played on me in a long time.

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