I had a dream last night that my ex and I had forgiven each other for the divorce. Or rather, he had forgiven me for leaving him. We were ready to leave all the dating around and the animosities behind. We were ready to start over as a family. Violet was still a toddler and therefore unable to understand what was going on. Even my dead cats were there, lurking (alive) in a shit-laden litterbox at the bottom of the basement stairs.
And, as is the fashion in the military, we were getting ready to move again. But Jerry’s phone kept going off. That phone was my alarm clock, pouncing at the chance to unmake this dream. And who was I to argue? I woke up and shook off the tendrils of affection that once were but will never be again.
And I remember my dreams when I was with him. I dreamed of having a second child. I dreamed of him getting out of the military so that he would not be in peril. I dreamed my whole life to find someone who would accept me despite my disorders.
A dream dashed too many times becomes a nightmare.
I still dream. I dream of making a better life for my child. I dream of leaving some mark on the world with my writing. I dream, but my dreams no longer include someone who couldn’t bring himself to emotionally support me. And I will dream tonight, and for all of my tomorrows.
Hopefully, they won’t be those awful dreams where Mrs. Rosen or Mrs. Schmidt kick me out of choir for being an awful singer. But that is an entirely different blog entry…