My Ex-AP: You Still Exist in My Dreams
It’s been a little over 12 weeks now since we’ve spoken.
In the past few weeks, I’ve been on holiday and I didn’t think of my ex-AP every single day. What progress, to be able to move about in life again without nostalgia, without regret, of longing and of missing. To breathe in air and taste foods and appreciate newfound experiences with my partner. Explore new places and take things in as they are — without longing for days past with different company, a different time, a different place. A past life. I have come quite a ways, from there to here. From then til now.
Yet he exists in my subconscious, even still. One night, on my vacation, I had a dream. In this dream, my ex-AP and I were on a road trip with our ex-colleagues. We were seated at the back of a five-seater, and he was inching closer and closer to me. He leaned into me, looking like one does when they gravitate towards someone they like — like opposite ends of magnets. And I tried, in my dream, with all my might, to ignore and to avoid what I wanted to do, which was to hold him close, breathe him in. Which was to hug him tightly, feel the warmth of his embrace. To brush my lips on his and feel his calloused hands in mine. That is what I wanted in my dream. Him.
From the front mirror, one of my colleagues who knew about us — about how much hell I’ve been through and barely made it back from — shot me a disapproving, yet supportive, look. But it didn’t take that look for me to know I could never, would never, not even in my dreams, dare.
I quietly stretched my arms out and guided/leaned him back against his side of the door so he could rest on the door instead of on me. Even as he reached out to me, I pushed back. I tucked him in safely on his side, so he would be warm and comfortable. I remember feeling so much tender love. I remember so, so much love that I woke with some tears in my eyes. In the end, I just wanted him to be comfortable. In the end, I just wanted him to be at peace and content with the path he has chosen, even when I refuse to and cannot be a part of it. I just wanted him to be happy. That’s all. In this dream, and in my reality, I tucked away all my conflicting feelings I have towards him, all the dreams and hopes I’d held inside. I knew it didn’t matter because in this dream I realize, he was drunk and that enabled him to reach out towards me and act to his feelings which otherwise he would hide. It’s a story I know all too well.
And I — I’m not someone you can come to when drunk to spill your heart and feelings and actions, passionate and pleasurable as they may be — then take it all back the next day when sober. Pretend it did not exist. Pretend you didn’t feel what you did, force me to as well. It’s sad yet true that I would have chosen him sober or buzzed or drunk, in any state. And meant it all. But he — even in my dreams — only came to me when he was incoherent and under the influence.
My subconscious has not let go — has not forgiven. But the me in reality understands and is doing my ultimate best to move away from this. I stopped therapy a few months ago due to a busy schedule, but I am seeing there’s more to explore here. Who and what he meant to me, why I fear stability and seek chaos, why I only feel alive when there’s endorphins and elusiveness and chase. Why I gravitate towards self-destruction and find discomfort in mundane and routine. Why I am who I am.
In this life, I am doing my best every day. And I believe that has got to be enough.
Thank you for listening.
