mydarlingcurse.com

some people have a strong adversion to reading dream posts, JCSG, Kelly, and i all feel that dream posts mean nothing to anyone but the dreamer. which is true. but this dream i had last night was awesome, honest.

ok, first of all, i was 16. and for whatever reason we were at a party hosted by Prince. (minnesota girls will always, always, at some point in thier lives, have a dream about Prince).

and get this, i was a violin protégé. so at the party, i meet a dashing, awkward, 19 year old bartender. the party turned out to be a photo op for Prince and all of the good things he does to encourage artistic youth. so it was kind of like the mickey mouse club. i got paried up with the 19 year old and sparks flew. innocent fun sparks from your 16 year old self before you really knew what sex was and took intense pleasure from deep kissing and new touch. and just typing the memory is making me feel good.

we broke off from the crowd and started exploring Prince’s mansion. for whatever reason, like there is reason to dreams, Prince had a bakery in his house. and there was a whole room with glass cases holding shinny doughnuts and cakes and tarts and candy and pie. the boy and i, desperately holding hands, shared a mini birthday cake. he let me eat the frosting roses and licked the sugar from my lips. i have never been so happy.

then some bullies showed up. they wanted to trash the bakery and we wouldn’t let them. but the boy, not having found his adultness, backed down. he gave way to the bullies and let go of my hand. and then the worst thing happened. my adult-self interjected and gave the boys a serious scolding - in my 16 year old body. they ran off.

and my boy, my sweet, sweet boy, he left me. he said i was too harsh. i was too like a man, and not enough like the girl he fell in love with. you feel in love with me?, i cried. (those peach and lemon days of youth when you could fall in love in 20 minutes, live a lifetime with each other in two hours and then carry the sorrow and scars for the rest of your life) there was still hours left of the party, and we had to decend a staircase arm in arm for another photo op. and he was so hurt and so disappointed in me, his arm had no strength in it for me. it was just there, not for me to hold onto, or lean against, or pull myself up by. it was there, just waiting to let go. and i’ve never been so sad. the photographer didn’t even take our picture.

i woke up sad, lamenting those days when i had the potential to be loved so fiercely.

then i hear shrieks and peals of laughter and “mommy, WAKE UP!” and boo is jumping on the bed and wanting to give me a big hug and her thin little arms of summer wrap around my neck in the morning. and i’m the only one for her. the only one.

the boy fades…even putting him down here doesn’t mean he’ll last. but i do still have the potential to be loved fiercely. these little arms of summer prove it.