I had the most fucked up dream last night. It's driving me mad, so I have to get it out. It should have been a good one. It should have. He was with me for the longest he's ever been with me in a dream. It seemed to stretch on for hours in my head. But I felt doomed the entire time.
We were in a dark lounge of some kind. I almost want to say it was a restaurant. I knew while we were sitting together that he'd left me before. He'd come back and I was just so glad. We were having a long conversation about nothing important (I can't remember what we talked about in this part of the dream) and then I painfully asked him why he'd left me. I had to know. I was heartbroken that he'd done it three times now. He said one of them I left him, but it wasn't true and he knew it. He said he did it because he didn't think he could give me what I needed. That he couldn't be sensitive enough to my needs. I felt like he was hesitating. That maybe that was part of the reason, but there was more he wasn't telling me. If he loved like he said he did, why didn't he try harder? Why would he keep giving up on me if he loved me like he claimed? I thought to myself then that if he left me again I wouldn't be able to take him back. And he would come back, eventually. It was too painful to be left and then scooped back up again like nothing was wrong. To have to pretend that I hadn't ached during his absence. And then, he broke my reverie by asking me to dance. My heart felt like it stopped, it was so full of love, despite my internal conflict. We were the only people in the place besides the two cashier girls behind the counter. We stood in the most space we could find amid the round empty tables. He pulled me up into his arms and held me close. Ignoring the girls that worked there, and the fact that this place wasn't for dancing. I had one arm around his neck and my other hand on his arm just above his elbow. I don't know why I didn't latch on with everything I had. I was so happy to be in his arms again, that he was back. It was overwhelming. I sighed "oh, baby, Oh, baby" and pressed my face into the side of his neck, inhaling as much of him as I could. I quickly wound my resting arm to his back and pulled him to me. I held him so tight. But as happy as I was at that moment, I just knew it wasn't real, that it wouldn't last. I could sense his smile as he pressed his face to the side of my head. I could hear it in his breathing. It crushed me. I started to cry, and I could feel his arms hold me tighter. In comfort I assumed. How could he know these were tears of sorrow when he obviously must think they were joyful tears for our reunion? I knew, even though he seemed fine now, that he would leave me again. It felt like this embrace was my way of savoring the good and also saying goodbye, though he could not know my intentions. As much as I loved him, and always would, I had to start protecting myself from him.
I've never felt so torn in a dream in my entire life. This was the bloodiest battle I have had to fight in a dream. But instead of dragons, or zombies, or muggers, I fought myself. It's the fucking worst.