I had another dream about you last night.
And in this one, you handed me a note, written on a scrap of parchment paper. A love note, with each line telling me that you knew I’d be here. That you’d always known. Maybe some premonition or maybe some unexplained connection between us, but you trusted, even after all this time, that I’d return to you.
But even in my dream I wasn’t sure if I had, if I should.
You looked just like I remembered—scruffy, too tall, hair slicked back but still a little messy. You sounded the same, even though it’s been years since I’ve heard your voice. You smiled the same, a sort of smirk with every sarcastic comment you made. Even your laugh was the same, familiar.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understand why, after days and months and years, you’d show up again, come back to haunt my dreams, come back to tell me that you’re sorry you ever left. But that you never stopped loving me, not for a second.
It doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t make sense that you’d confess your heart in a dream, that you’d touch my hand and make it warm, that the whole thing would feel so real, from the way your lips tasted to that ache that covered my entire body whenever you looked into my eyes.
It’s hard to believe I was ever asleep.
But it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you chose to walk out of my life, but so freely enter it whenever you want. It’s not fair that you tell me you love me, so close, so present, when your physical body rests thousands of miles away.
I can’t stand it.
Can’t stand waking up to the quiet of my bedroom and knowing that as real as that felt, it wasn’t. Not even for a second. I can’t stand this game. It feels like you’re playing with my heart all over again. But this time you get to leave freely, no strings attached. And the open-ended, free will to return.
Get out. Get out of my head. Get out of my dreams. Get out of all the places where I can feel you but can’t control whether you go or stay.
It’s easier to let you go when you’re across the world. It’s easier to not think about you when I’ve already said goodbye. It’s easier to pretend I don’t still love you when I never see you face.
You can’t just leave and return on a whim, telling me sweet nothings that won’t matter in the morning.
You can’t just write me love notes and say what I’ve been aching to hear, just to leave again. Just to make me wonder whether we’re dreaming the same dream, worlds apart, or if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.
I wasn’t lonely, you know. I wasn’t missing you. I wasn’t crying myself to sleep or even wondering about you, and where you were. Sure, I still think about you, about us, about what could have been.
But not in the way where I’d wish for you.
Yet there you are again, each night, making me question whether I’m asleep or awake, making me wonder if this all means something, or if your ghost just likes to haunt me.
But please go. Go if you’re not going to stay. Go if you’re just going to pretend you love me when I close my eyes, but won’t commit when it’s daylight.
Go if you’re not going to tell me that you’ve made a mistake, and you mean every word you promise at night.
Go if you’re going to leave me just like you did before.
Because I don’t think my heart can handle losing you all over again.