So I tried my hand at lucid dreaming.
So I tried my hand at lucid dreaming. Because, even after these intermittent years, after this time that was supposed to heal me, I still miss her. I still miss her voice and her presence. I’m unable to let go. I don’t want to let go. I want to see her and hear her. So I tried lucid dreaming. I know it’s not a real thing, that it’s all in my head. That’s fine. What’s in my head is better than the world I’m in when I’m awake. I did everything I was supposed to do. I went to bed at a regular schedule. I stopped eating before I slept. I kept a journal of my dreams and tried to remember them. I did everything I was supposed to. Eventually I started to get control. I practiced and practiced. It had to be perfect when I brought her back. Eventually it was. When I was ready to see her, It was perfect. It was absolutely perfect.
I was walking through space, vast oceans of stars and time. A gentle wind smelling of her perfume rustled my pyjamas. The sound of waves gently crashing came from all directions. I walked and walked until I came upon a field of clouds. An endless expanse of white mist. She sat in the middle of them, her back to me. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, because she always looked so cute like that. She was wearing her favorite nightgown, the white one with the lace sleeves. I continued towards her, through what looked like infinite space, but what felt like only short steps. Eventually she turned and faced me. Looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. She was always so gorgeous. Radiant.
I came upon her and we hugged. We embraced and she sighed in my ear. Saying nothing, we held each other for the longest time. “We don’t have long,” she whispered in my ear, “It won’t be long at all before you wake up and I’ll be gone again.” “I know,” I whisper back. “Is there anything you want to say before I go?”
I took her hands and tried to look her in the eye but I couldn’t. I couldn’t face her while I told her I was sorry. I was sorry for everything. I was sorry that I’d gotten so pathetic. I sobbed and wept with each uttered apology. The pain of my actions finally flowing free. I knelt and clutched the hem of her nightgown, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. She bent down and put her hand under my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Look,” she said, pulling aside her clothes to show me her stomach. “It’s all gone. It’s all better now,”She said. It was true, the scars were gone. The marks where they tried to pull it out of her. “I forgive you,” she said, “I never blamed you. I never hated you. I only ever loved you. Now kiss me before this all ends.” We kiss, and it feels like forever. I’d give anything to set it right. To have the boy and her. To have them both forever. Instead of this dream. This obsession.
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