I am a person who believes that dreams means something. I have always been a very vivid dreamer. It’s scary sometimes. I scare myself. I also have the ability to remember several dreams, not just one.
Last night I had a dream of the Chicago Cowboy. For those who aren’t familiar with the Chicago Cowboy he’s my big college ex that I’ve tried in all sorts of ways to stay in touch with and remain friends with. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. But a few months ago we broke up. For real. Over e-mail. And unless I reach out to try and mend things, I’ll never from him again. He’s one of those types that doesn’t make an effort ever. He’ll always take your call, but he’ll never call you. He’ll always write back, but never write first. Sometimes this is okay with me, but right now, it’s not.
A part of me will also wonder about the well-being of the Cowboy. I love him. I’ll always want him to be okay. But I can’t make him okay. I can’t make him anything, I don’t want to.
The dream was brief and realistic. We were face to face saying goodbye. I was leaving somewhere, somewhere far. And he simply reached out and touched my face. Usually this kind of tenderness from him would cause me to try and get into contact with him. I would feel like he needed me. But maybe that was all a bunch of crap and self-projection. Him not needing me, me needing him. And today I release all of that. Today, maybe it doesn’t mean anything.
And I get the irony that while it might not mean anything I’m posting about it, so it must mean something. Maybe. But I already feel better getting it out there and not feel the need to mention him again. So welcome to the list of other losers that I will not give any more time, energy, or thought about.
Names Never Again Mentioned Here:
Sarah Palin
Octomom
Chicago Cowboy