Only In Dreams

Some mornings I just don’t want to wake up, I’m having such a good dream.  It happened this morning:  there I was wrapped in the arms of an unrequited love, discovering what we had missed all these

G.W., the subject of these dreams, was a high school classmate.  He was tall, blond with blue eyes, athletic, and a musician.  He had a wicked sense of humour, and from the moment we met we were instant friends.  It was the promise of seeing him each day that kept me going in what were very tough times.  And I know he really liked me too.

Until the fateful day he asked me out and I said ‘no’, telling him I just wanted to be friends.

It was lie, but at the time I felt it was the only choice I had:  I was hiding too much: bullying at a former school, rape, and my dad’s secret life. I was certain that a guy like G.W. would not like me if he knew.  It was better to keep him at arm’s length.

G.W. tried again over the next couple of years, but I never waivered.  Not outwardly.  Inside I died a little each time, knowing I would never be good enough for him.

Except in my dreams.  It’s been more than forty years and I still dream of him, and every time he is the same old friend, loving me unconditionally. And I don’t want to wake up.

th-1I know people who have chased down former crushes and picked up where they left off.  Some successful, some not.

I prefer to think it is the feeling that G.W. gave me that I crave:  a sense of being accepted, appreciated, and acknowledged. With G.W. I feel safe.  I begin to believe in my own worth.

Maybe one day, I’ll gain the self-respect I’m looking for and won’t need him anymore.  In the meantime, I look forward to more dreams.


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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