Another Dream of You
I dreamed of you again last night.
At least it was the caricature of you that lingers in my dreams still.
Still (perhaps even more pronouncedly) emotionally abusive; still demeaning and insulting, mocking and shaming, with those same beautiful eyes that filled my whole sky once.
You were, as (nearly) always, completely unaware of all the harm you’ve done, are-doing, still-will-do from atop what I romantically and artistically imagine to be the perch of your own (invented?) grievances.
Sometimes I imagine that the dreams come to me because of some black magic you do (are actively doing). As if the webs you wrapped around the other one with my name give you leverage that he might signal to you my motions and motives. While the abuse was yours to dole, I never ever (in my anxiety and paranoia) claimed to be the sane one. I fear/feel as though it may all be some extension of your anger-made-craft to perpetually punish me for leaving (long after you’ve lost any use for me beyond your ego’s own sadistic satisfaction).
I, at some point, had to accept that no matter what you do to me, what emotionally violent work you throw at me, I am unable to let go of loving you, even if I knew and know I had no other choice but to leave you.
Maybe that’s why I dream of you still.
Perhaps that black magic was worked long ago, and I just didn’t notice in the midst of that dichotomy of bliss and pain that you became to me with our ‘I love love love love love love love you’s.
I woke in a cold sweat, still hearing the echos of my dreaming of your voice in my head, and my own reply still tasted on my lips, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you…” ever.
Any (even kind) word now is to invite disaster. I believe that in my waking world, of course my dreams would agree.
It was a dream of falling, of being propelled back through time and space to place-and-time after place-and-time (complete with shifting period clothing) where our eyes would meet as we used to imagine, in our deepest and most thrilling love, that they had met hundreds of lifetimes before, but this time always with the violence and hatred in your eyes.
I love you.
I can’t stop and it hurts me to even lay eyes on you now.
I miss you.
You are pain to me and a scar that I will carry.