The Dream


I keep having this dream; not the same dream over and over, but an extension, or different versions of the same dream. I see him somewhere. It doesn't matter where. Sometimes at school, other times at some other place I don't recognize. I even see him at work, sometimes. I'm aware that the dream is a manifestation of my desires. I want so badly to see him again. I want the blood to rush from my head, as I let all my cares and inhibitions and justifications fly away. I want to be dizzy with the heat of embrace. I want the oh-so-subtle convulsions of want to shake me again. I know it's probably never going to be the way I imagine it. But I digress; The Dream; I've gone and left it behind.

In the dream, I see him. I try to catch him. I shout for him. I run for him. Finally I catch him, but he can't talk. He has a new girl. We make plans to meet another time.

When we meet, it's electric. There's too much energy between us, and we know we shouldn't do anything, at least for now.

We talk, and we decide to make things work. We each get things in order, talking everything over. I go home, and I think about things. As I'm in the shower, with my music on; a very reminiscent set, I might add; he comes to me. He enters the room; he sings to me. Then the scene changes. Often, this is the end of the dream. But not tonight. Tonight, it continues.

I knew where he lived, and I met him there. He asked me if my husband knew I was with him. Of course he does. He's not jealous, and he understands that I can love them both. Hell, he wishes he could be here.

In my mind, my songs are still playing. We kiss, he nips my neck and scratches my back. It's everything I thought it would be, but it's not enough. I need more. I want to make up for the time we lost over the last two years.

We stay together for hours, talking, kissing, touching, and re-learning each other. We both have new scars, and new lives, and we are both new people. There's a lot to learn; its like we're strangers again. We haven't felt this awkward since high school, and we're relishing it. A part of me wants to push the boundaries past familiarity, and the rest of me wants to wait until we are comfortable together. I feel like a teenager again; lustful and inexperienced, wanting the chance to have a first time again. It was never this way with my husband. Even after the split, there was familiarity; we still knew each other. With him, its different. We have a second chance at a first time. Our real first time lacked closeness. We were just fucking, nothing else. My husband was there, taking away from my attention, distracting me. It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to me. I love the fact that my husband is willing to share, but our first time together should have been the two of us alone. This is our second chance. We have the chance to start over again. I only wish it could have been right the first time. I'm ready to make it right.

In the early hours of the morning, as the sun comes up, we decide to hold off for now. We want to make this last as long as possible. The newness of this is a gift; it's important. We want it to last, and we want to hang on to this excitement.

This is where the dream ends tonight, because I wake up. Here I am, back in my otherwise happy life, wishing my second love would come back to me. Ours is not a comfortable, easy love, but a rushing, new, exciting love; like we had when we started as teenagers. Only it hasn't changed; and I hope it never will.

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