Allowing Myself to Dream
You text to say, “I am here,” and I almost trip on my steps as I head out of the door, into the cold night, towards the car. I am tired, and sleepy. I just want to place my head on my bed and get lost in nothingness. To process everything that has happened in the past few hours. To let my body fall into acceptance without bitterness. To let my soul come into terms with this new life. This new stammer on my speech. This…this.
“We are going home, yeah” you pique, even though I know it is not a question, but a statement with soft finality. Even though you are one of the softest people I know. With the gentlest of hearts and a smile that disarms even the strongest. But this words, I have learned, though soft, have a rough tinge of finality on their edges.
“Where is home?” I ask, even though I know you means your house, not mine.
“My place,” you say, hands on steering wheel, eyes on the road. You reassure me when I ask whether it is safe. This going to this place at midnight. You sense my paranoia, you know it, feel it, so you calmly glance at me and say, “You are with me, of course you are safe. I can never put you in the way of harm, knowingly. Do you trust me?”
I melt in the inside and slide lower into the passenger seat, eyes closely, vaguely registering your voice, calm as usual, asking, “Do you have your seatbelt on?”
I am surprised at how calm I remain as you drive on, even as the silence in the car attempts to get uncomfortable. As you repeatedly ask whether I am sure I don’t want anything to eat. Whether I shall make it to the morning. I explain the Science of my stomach. You chuckles, and for a moment, it is the softest, calmest sound I have heard in a while.
In the house, you run me a warm bath, hand me fresh toiletries, and I still surprise myself at how calm my nervous system is. How I look at you and nothing in me goes on edge. How I follow your lead with no questions, no wrangles, even when you get under the covers, next to me, your breath hot against my neck as you say, “I’d really love to cuddle you; is this something you would also like?”
I almost disappear into your chest, and a peace, calm like a slow river, washes over me as you stroke my hair, then caress my right cheek, then my back. I want to stay like this, forever, here where you are asking why I am holding back. Why there is a distance in my eyes, in my steps, in the way I speak, and carry myself that you do not understand. That you would want to understand. I want to stay here, forever, where you are saying I am a dream come true. I have always been, even when you thought I was unreachable.
There is a lot I want to say about things, but…but…
But because I know I will be out of this door tomorrow, and there is a slim chance you will talk to me again, and so you are undeserving of the purity of my truth, I smile, shyly, and allow myself to get lost in the kiss that arouses butterflies in my stomach, saying, “I am always like this. This shy. You have just never known, because, truly, you really don’t know me. You only loosely know the parts I have allowed you to see, and if we are being honest, you have judged me from other things, and there is no doubt in my mind you are still stuck in old map.”
You hold me throughout the night. You sleep softly, deeply, making no noise whatsoever. At some point in the night, I turn to look at you and stare at how calm your face looks, and I almost convince myself that maybe, I could get used to this. Maybe this calmness is what I have been craving, and been running away from. I allow myself to dream.
When the first rays of sunshine slit through the curtains, you pull me closer, and oh…
“What is the time?” I ask. I am not in my house. I need to leave. As soon as possible.
“Um…I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, does it. You can sleep; there is no hurry.”
And I force myself to bite down my tongue, to restrain the tears that are threatening to burst the banks of my eyes.
I slip out of your house with a smile in my eyes, and anxiety in my belly. You are playing with a strand of my hair, smiling, regurgitating different words to say how grateful you are for my existence. That the door is always open for me; to come and go as I please. That there is still a lot of yearning in your bones, and you are doing your best to demystify this cloud of uncertainty in my eyes.
I return your smile and lean into you so you do not see my eyes when I say, “It means a lot that I feel safe here, with you. There are very few people on this earth with whom my heart and soul feel safe, and that counts for something, no? Maybe this is just not the time for me, for us, but…but…”
You kiss my forehead and rub my back. I disappear into the world, feeling your eyes against my back. I fight the urge to turn back, partly because of the tears I cannot explain, mostly because I know I shall spend the days lost in the idea of you. In the possibility of us. And I shall think of you in ways I know I don’t have words for, and you shall never, ever, know about this.
But you will remember that you allowed yourself to dream.
