Skip to main content

Choice

I had a dream, a very rare dream. I'm convinced this is a first for me. I've dreamt of my first husband before. And I've dreamt of my current husband before. I've had dreams that brought my first husband back to me. No big deal. The subconscious mind will do some strange things and to be expected. However, they have never gone here before. A little background...

I absolutely loved my first husband. Even though it was likely my own immaturity and insecurity and burgeoning alcoholism that caused the tipping point that ended my first marriage, I never fell out of love with him. He and my daughter were my whole world. They, especially he, was my identity, my hopes, and my dreams. It's devastating to lose all that you are, all the good that you've been, and that you'd hoped you would be, all at once. I was unprepared. I loved who he was and how he moved through life so confidently.

After I lost my marriage, I felt hopeless, unloved, and unLoveable. A series of hopeless encounters then getting sober, and I found love again. Not a searing hot, burning relationship, but one that was spicy enough to remain interesting and mild enough to Be genuine. For a long time, I compared and thought if my long, lost first love came back to me, I might be compelled to try again. But something happened along the way...

My dream had me back with my first husband and happy about it. His wife divorced him and he came back to me..We moved me back to California. Instead of the house with a pool, he moved me in to a basic condominium overlooking a freeway and a shopping mall. He grilled me about finances. I was living this alternate reality and was lonely. I looked over at my rack of clothing and realized three pairs of jeans did not belong to me. Those slouchy, dirty, wore-out jeans belonged to the husband I longed to be with.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Creep

  Have you ever used the internet to look up an old flame? How about an old arch-enemy? Did you have the intention to reconnect? Me neither.

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my