Living alone is a double-edged sword. When you’re in the groove it is easy to close your front door and slip into a blissful routine of productivity. When things are off home becomes a prison, because you’re trapped here with your own thoughts and nothing else to stop you from sinking into that alone. That’s why it is fortunate I spent the meat of my yesterday at the office and then at the museum for a play read that lasted late into the night. I came home and slept and still rose before 4 AM, plagued by dreams of what if and the painful reaction that followed.
The second dream was just a conversation. It felt completely real and accurate. In fact the only reason I knew I was dreaming at all was because I didn’t remember waking up from the first dream–the one with the sharks.
That one found me at my grandmother’s old apartment trapped with several people, because Manhattan island had sank to the point where her 11th floor home was now sea level. I never stopped to consider what happened to the other 10 floors, because there were sharks (and 2-dimensional paper alligators, but we won’t worry about those). I watched part of our group try to escape to a nearby island only to be forced back. When they returned to the relative safety of the apartment a shark swam right up through the hallway from the front door and swallowed one of them whole. It shattered what relative safety we felt. That’s when we retreated to the bedroom (that’s when the paper ‘gator showed up). I left the comfort of the bedroom to get food for the group (accidentally letting the ‘gator loose in the room) and at some point during that sequence I got a phone call.
I wound up in my bedroom on the phone having the most difficult and expected call of my life. I wish I could tell you how it went, but once I realized I was dreaming I couldn’t finish it. Maybe that’s the point. I was on the cusp of something in that talk–a deeper understanding and realization of how things are. Maybe it was the late night play read that triggered me or just some space to finally process my emotions. I’m tired. I’ve been through a lot. I wish I had answers. But just as the dream stopped before I got them, I’ve stopped wishing altogether.
Some Thoughts:
- Love is hard and absolutely undefinable. It takes different shapes for different people. It is tied up in what we’ve experienced and what we’ve hoped for.
- Trust is the same way. The two are intertwined. When you love, you trust another person with your heart and hope they are careful enough not to break it. Often we are devastatingly wrong.
- Mel Odom once wrote, ‘You live life to find the people you can trust. If you’re lucky, you survive the one’s you can’t.’
- I am at that point in my life where love and trust have merged into this idea of faith. I have absolute faith in my partner. I have shockingly less faith in happy endings.