I frequently wonder if you are okay these days. It isn’t because of some perceived bump in our relationship. I wouldn’t deign to believe that your difficulties, if you are in fact having a novel variety or abnormal amount of them, had anything to do with me. I just want you to be okay and feel at times that you may not be. And I don’t know what to do about that because you probably think that there isn’t anything anyone else can do to really help you with it. And you’re probably right. I can hug you as much as it is socially appropriate to do so and then stand in a corner and imagine that I could do that a few more times with the hope that you would understand how beautiful and loved you are, but I already know that you wouldn’t allow me to do much else. I don’t think that you are wired for it.
It isn’t enough to remind myself that you are playing by a different set of rules right now. I want you to feel okay in the moment as it now is. I feel like you do tell me in less obvious ways that something isn’t right, even if it’s temporary, but I never know what to do. What can I do?? I’d like to believe that we are primarily friends with undertones of familial love, but that isn’t realistic. I can shelve my feelings until the ocean swallows the eastern seaboard but that doesn’t normalize my emotional functioning when you are around.
All that I ever want to do when you are near me is hug you. And that dicks up my perception of my own motives. You are my favorite person to hug. Strike that. You are my favorite person. Of course I want you to feel okay and would relish the opportunity to hug you until that became true. But the boundaries of our relationship become skewed for me whenever I hug you more than once or text you more than a few times. It’s like my prefrontal cortex messes up the strictly friendly part of our friendship and makes the idea of offering you comfort something that I need to mull over until I am writing a neurotic diatribe about the consequences and resorting to posting it on an anonymous website instead of reaching out the way that a better friend would.
So, I’ve decided, I’m just going to use my words. I don’t really know if it’s correct to believe that something is, or has been, wrong. Or if it’s the same overarching thing or just a series of smaller things. Or if I’m inventing a problem to aid the progression of wish fulfillment I get out of this website. I am curious, but what is paramount to me is that you become the recipient of things that will make you feel better. So, problem or no, here are some words for you—
Last night, I dreamt that you were hosting a party. The house it was in felt like yours but it was quite different from your actual home. It was newly built; a modestly large home, if that makes sense. The windows were abnormally large, allowing the home to be lit with natural light. Outside of the house—that looked like the real thing. It was definitely the place that I go when I visit you at your home.
Adults were meandering about. Children were running through the main areas, teasing and playing with each other. There was music and food and dogs and everything felt so familiar but upon waking I recognized that you were the only person from actual life that I knew there. Everybody else was a friend from dream universe.
You asked me to dance with you. I dance-walked my way over to you and you laughed because I am a goofy dancer. I stepped toward you as you stepped backward … until you cornered yourself in an intersection between a wall and a dresser. We stopped dancing (we never really were dancing), and you looked at me like you do sometimes, when you smile through your eyes. I like it when you look at me like that. This was the first time it had happened at such a short distance. So, … I leaned in and kissed you.
For me dream events almost exclusively stimulate my visual and auditory senses. I can recall three dreams from about 20 years ago when I could feel a tactile sensation during those events. In one of them I was trapped in a maze with concrete walls, running away from a scary something that I told you about the first night we ever spent time together. Within the dream I recognized how ridiculous the events were and became aware of the fact that I was dreaming. So, I reached out to the wall believing that I could just move myself through it to escape the thing that was chasing me. To my surprise, it was cold and porously hard, like concrete. The “reality” of what I felt became more scary than the thing that was chasing me, I think, for deeply-seated psychological reasons that I am still unraveling today.
When we kissed in my dream last night, my sense of touch was fully intact. I felt warmth. Softness. Slipperiness. Facial contours. Pheromone-laced breathing. Enveloping arms. Erratic heart beats. Curious fingers. Peaceful lip smacking. The thickness of a million hair follicles. That whole-body sigh of relief when a year’s worth of episodic daydreams become a reality. I’ve dreamt about kissing you before, but this was the first dream I’d dreamt about kissing you for the first time.
When we pulled away you were smiling. You said “I so loved that. But hasn’t it been enough for now? I wanted to wait just a little longer.”
The statement didn’t really matter because it wasn’t a complaint.