There is nothing worse than waking to a dream that drops you to your knees, shakes the very core of everything that you are and everything that you’ve become. To be reminded of how empty you once were is a scary thought in itself. Not so much the memory of where you were at that particular time, but not knowing if it’s possible to be back in that same situation at some point in the future.
As I pull up, park the car, I can see them sitting there on a bench, looking across the lake. They are sitting so close to each other that it’s hard to tell where one body ends and the other begins. Clearly I can see them hand in hand, enjoying the day before them. Sitting there just watching, I can’t imagine how love doesn’t conquer all that doesn’t seem right. I can’t imagine how what I see isn’t something to be deemed true, it is nothing more than just a belief, mine. But if it is one that comes from the heart, does that make it perfect Love, perfection in life, will it remain absolute in all future memories? For the sake of my heart, yes, I have to allow myself to believe in all that I cherish to keep a beautiful memory alive. I imagine that their laugh was a mimic of each others, their eyes gleamed with excitement and their hearts yearned for every type of adventure they could think of. But most of all, I keep in my imagination that together, looking into their eyes, there was no doubt that I was home.
As I sit up in bed, wipe the tears from my eyes and try to focus in complete darkness, I realize that once again sleep has played a dirty trick on me, momentarily teasing me with the thought of what I thought I had. The end result turns out to be that for now, sleep is over-rated, stupid at best.