I had a dream a while back. It’s hazily placed in my memory, so I can’t quite remember how long ago “a while back” is. Was it a year ago? Maybe two? It was only me and a man – a man that I was madly in love with and who was madly in love with me. I remember him having huge muscular arms and I could wrap my whole body around it. He had dreadlocks or braids, and he was a beautiful shade of dark brown. He moved with confidence because he understood himself and his life’s purpose.
The timeframe isn’t important because what I remember is the feeling. I woke up feeling so overwhelmed by it all. Was that what love felt like? If so, I wanted to experience it in real life.
I don’t do well in relationships. I don’t feel I’ve ever been in love. Men have proclaimed their love for me, but they only loved me in the way they knew how to love. No one has ever known how to love me in the way that I needed to be loved. I’m fiercely independent and have found a wholeness within myself, so I don’t walk into relationships looking for someone to fill a void. I don’t need him, but I choose to allow him into my life for his companionship.
And to take out the trash.
And to lift those heavy cases of bottled water.
Oh, what a feeling! I didn’t have a care in the world in that dream. He was my protector and he could solve any problem before I even realized it was a problem. It felt like freedom. It felt like home.
I’ve been content on being single for the rest of my life, and I honestly felt that was the best decision for me and the healthiest decision for me. Then the dream came along. He made me queasy yet clairvoyant. My heart raced yet I was calm. He could look at me and see my soul. I could look at him and know that he was created to love me. It felt like worship, and I worshipped him in return. It was that fairytale love – where we agreed on everything, money wasn’t an issue, and orgasms were plentiful. If he said jump, I would ask how high because I trusted that he had me jumping for a reason and not in vain. He loved me just as much as I loved him, and all of that love woke me up out of my sleep the next morning. I was breathless.
Before that dream, I wasn’t even open to the idea of dating. I would date casually, but never take any man seriously. Maybe it was a sign.
I met someone after the dream. He wasn’t the man of my dreams. The man of my dreams wouldn’t ask me to suppress myself for his fragile ego. He wouldn’t do the least and expect the most. He wouldn’t request me to be someone who he himself wasn’t willing to be. There’s a woman out on this earth that’s willing to be all of those things to him and more. I’m just not that woman, but I hope he finds her. There’s a man out on this earth that’s willing to be all of the things I want and need out of him and more. He’s just not that man, but I hope I find him.
Dreams are bullshit.