These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Wednesday, 11 May 2011

My broken dream

I didn’t know I was dreaming but I was. It felt real to me and there I was dying to hear the answer to the question, instead I was woken from my slumbers. I didn’t want to be awake right then, I wanted to know. I still do.

Waking up from my dream was like reading through a book and finding the last few pages have been unceremoniously ripped from the binding. I remain devastated.

I had asked, “Do you want me to stay or go?” And then I was yanked from the room where she was. It felt as if I was deep sea diving and the ascent was too quick. I struggled to reconnect with my familiar surroundings in the dream but my new environment of my bedroom was suddenly alien to me.

I wanted to cry. I really wanted to know if she needed me, if she wanted me, if she was choosing me to be with her instead of the other person in the room. She knew I would do whatever was best for her – that’s always been the way between us.

We were alone in the room together when one of her relatives had burst in and had just confronted her, after which she had flung herself to the floor in anguish. By now she was across the room from me, but I went to her and stooping down I gently held her head in my lap. Her beautiful eyes remained as closed as her entire body. I couldn’t read her at all.

I knew what the connection was like with her family, and I didn’t want any confrontation. However, I would have stayed if she nodded, said a small word or even squeezed my hand. I would have faced wild animals for her but ... I never got the answer.

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