I don't normally talk about my dreams. And by dreams I mean the shit that my mind comes up with when I'm buried under the comforter and completely oblivious to the outside world, not the hopes and aspirations that I want to one day achieve. While my mind can (and does) come up with some odd things at times (including but not limited to: Running for my life in a variety of places for a variety of reasons that are never fully explained; being in a slightly modified episode of Stargate: Atlantis in which Ronon is sitting on my back porch blasting Wraith as they come out of the woods; being arrested multiple times after running for my life and winding up in the back of a taxi cab in NYC; more Wraith; and that really funky one where I was gamboling around my high school looking for my boyfriend at the time and finding him mackin' on another girl behind the curtain in the auditorium....) but last night's was different. And It was different in the sense that it was, for lack of a better phrase, normal. It had a normalcy to it that, if I really stop and think deeply, probably scares the hell out of me.
Now, a lot of the times the places in my dreams are a little hazy, especially if it's not important. But this was set in a lounge of some sort, like you'd find in a college dorm complex. And there was a guy, and I now know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Louise. I don't really think I need to hear what you're going to say next. Really, that might be flirting with this little thing called TMI...
But it's not, because the only thing that was happening between me and this guy in this lounge was that we were simply, honestly....snuggling. Cuddling, whatever you want to call it (I could probably break out the dictionary, but that might be overkill), we were just simply sitting there, occasionally holding hands, but mostly just sharing a common space. And what really struck me was how I felt. I felt warm. Safe. And, above all else (and this is probably what freaks me out the most) I had this overwhelming sense of happiness. Almost rival to the feeling that I get when I see my family or when I build with blocks with Mads. It was this wonderful, rich, happiness that just made you glow from the inside out. And I was smiling, and I was genuinely, wonderfully happy with where I was at the moment. I literally didn't have any other care or worries. It was like we were in a bubble.
And then I woke up (with some assistance from my phone and it's Twitter updates, and there's really only one person that I follow via my phone who's also up at 6:30 in the morning) and I was literally freezing. I was under the comforter, under the sheet and the Giants blanket, and I was still cold like I'd been sleeping out in the snow. And the feeling of utter happiness and contentment that I had found with this person (who was pretty damn cute, too, like a cross between Anton Yelchin [Star Trek, Alpha Dog] and a college soccer player [Not the one you were thinking of, Heather]) was faded, almost completely gone.
I think what scares me the most about something like this, was that I feel like I've had a taste of that kind of happiness before. On a few, occasions, actually, and even though I feel like I might explode with joy when I see Mads, this is different. This...this fills a different part of you that you really didn't know that you had.
When I take a moment, step away, and look back on the relationships that I've had - one guy off and on for three years, a psuedo-no-idea-what-the-hell-this-is-and-don't-want-to-examine-it, and a two-week fling thing a year ago - I'm reminded of a quote from Sally from Practical Magic. It's when she's writing a letter to her sister.
"Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon." - Sally
I'm twenty. I'm not entirely sure I should really feel this way. But what can you do?