My Boy...

I had one of those dreams again last night. You know; those dreams that take your breath away once awoken and you wish you’d never woken up. One of those dreams, which even after you’re in the world of consciousness you still feel warm and tender and sweet, like some peaceful aura is still surrounding you. I’m sure that many women will relate to my dream; some others may not.


“I dreamed of love; it was night and I dreamed that I was staying at a cousin’s house out of town. The house was quiet and his housemates were all occupied either with online gaming and chatting or reading for next day’s classes. The serene atmosphere of the apartment was suddenly interrupted by the Landlord; one of those hard-core ladies, full of muscle and suspicion, she entered the apartment enquiring who had been visiting the apartment for the last couple of days. Of course that someone was referring to me, as no more tenants were allowed in the apartment. I remember my heart racing in the dream as I stumbled here and there in the apartment, pretending to be cleaning the space of the kitchen in silence, in a desperate effort to show obedience and good behaviour. I knew that that wouldn’t cut it, but still I scrubbed on. As soon as the lady left, the room filled with a large number of my cousin’s friends; among them was the unknown boy of my dreams who stole my heart. I hadn’t seen him before, but as soon as I walked into the room, I could see his wilful eyes, his wondering smile casting a shadow upon me, trying to “figure” me out. Me, a firm believer that there is not love at first sight, was caught! All of a sudden my dream changed pace, rhythm and tone. It became a chase. My cousin and all of his friends (boys and girls who were in the apartment with us) were on the run, to get away from that space, from the Landlord lady, to get away from “our lives”, I know not…the important thing is that we were on the run, for unknown reasons, but we were running. On our way we found solace on a bus which I can distinctly remember it would carry us out of town, to an old place of mine, where I used to stay long before I had met any of the people I was with. On the bus, I was sitting at the far back trying to calm my nerves out of all this tension, out of all this madness which did not make any sense to me, why we were the bad ones since we did not do anything wrong in the first place. It was then, through all my shaking and all my fear that something warm touched me; literally. It was the hand of that boy. He was sitting beside me, not saying anything, while everybody stared at us, and he put his hand in mine. He didn’t speak a word, but rather looked at me, smiled at me and then looked ahead. We stayed there for a long time till it was time we got off the bus, and be on the run again, to find that place. I remember the feeling; the feeling that everybody knew that what had developed within an hour between me and him, was something warm, it was something pure, sweet, something I hadn’t felt since I was a little girl. Such an innocent feeling for someone else, which touched me like nothing in the last few years. It was honest and true. We got off and everybody started running again. What I distinctly recall is that he even held my hand through numerous steps we had to climb, through fences and through crossroads and junctions. We were moving ahead of the group until we found ourselves in a big crossing. It happened that me and him crossed the junction first, whilst the others were held behind. He was getting tense as well, but he didn’t let go of my hand once. He lit up a cigarette; he’d offer me one before as well, but I refused. This time I did not. I could not. With all that running and chasing, I was feeling like my heart was going to pop out of my chest, I grabbed the cigarette and breathed the smoke in such passion that before I even let the smoky air come out of my lungs, he leaned over and kissed me. His grip now became tight, like he didn’t want to let me go as if not to lose me. The air I didn’t manage to exhale, I exhaled it in him, while he gave me his, in the most innocent, gentle kiss I had ever had in a dream. His warmth was now surrounding me. I was left speechless, breathless, scare-less. It was just a moment, and yet it felt like an eternity of time stretching in that single heartbeat. The rest of the group had now crossed the junction and having seen “our moment” they urged us to just keeping going, due to lack of time. We started running again until we got to another big junction trying to find our way through the night which by now has started to rain quite heavily. We tried to cross the junction, this time with a sudden encounter from a massive lorry that didn’t notice us in the dark and was heading towards us. Just before tragedy hit our group, we managed to make the man in the lorry notice us and stop, split seconds before an unwanted fatal accident occured. Still, the boy did not let go of me. This time, his hand was firm, tight and he grabbed my waist every chance he could, as if frightened that if he didn’t hold me, I would be left behind and be gone from him forever. No man in all my conscious life has ever offered me that sort of protection; like I was like an ancient piece of pearl, trying to save me from the harms of the outside world, trying to hold on to me like an invaluable treasure he could not afford to lose. After our encounter with the lorry driver, we managed to hop on to the right bus that would take us to the house we were all looking for; somewhere safe, quiet and peaceful, with no one to chase us anymore, and no one to define us with their rules and regulations. After a short drive, the house came in sight. The joy in everyone’s face was simply indescribable. Like we had reached our haven, our comfort, our protected area. We got off the bus and headed for the house. Just before I entered the house, since I had to be the first to go in, being the only one who had the keys to the house, I had to let go of his hand. Before I did, he softly whispered to me; “I’ll be right behind you.”, and then he smiled. I slowly moved away from him and tried the keys, letting everyone in one by one. He stayed behind. At this point I was not in the scene, but I could clearly see in my dream what went down. I saw that my boy stayed outside the house with another male from the group and they were talking really intensely. I remember that they were talking about me, about who was going to be in my bed that night. I remember my boy bragging that “since you’re the one she loves and you want to have her bed now that you’ve seen she’s all loved-up, I am not going to let you have her. If you want her, I want her too, and we’ll see in whose bed she’s going to end up tonight.” Even though myself was not present physically in the dream during this conversation, I knew what was said between them, I knew that all the sweet emotions that had carried me through so far, had now gone and they were replaced by feelings of anger, disappointment and betrayal. I refused to believe that my boy could see me as something to be won, like a prize to be had…Indeed I was a treasure, of the wrong kind though. Not the kind, that I want you because you fill in the gaps in my life that could never be filled, but a treasure of who will have the most glittering prize to show off to the rest of the world. And that’s when….my dad woke me up.


Now, I have to admit that I have been watching back to back episodes from Prison Break (it’s the first time I actually sat down to watch all seasons together) and all this chasing and running might be affected from this. But my boy is not. I was sad I woke up, since I didn’t get to see what would go down after that, which boy would end up winning me, if they’d win me at all. Obviously both boys considered me “worthy” enough to have me, but I knew that as soon as they did it would mostly be over for them, whilst for me the case was somewhat different; obviously from the last words of my boy I cared for another member of the group deeply, but as yet nothing had happened, and when the other guy saw me with my boy he obviously could not handle any form of competition, even if the prize did not interest him that much, he just had to have it. What I distinctly remember after the dream though, was that warmth, that feeling of my boy that he showed me with no questions asked as soon as he saw me when I had entered the room of the apartment. I remember that I miss that feeling, which I haven’t felt in my conscious world ever since I was in early junior high school years; that feeling that someone cares for me flawlessly, selflessly, with no agenda and no ulterior motives (i.e. sexual hunger, showing off etc), with nothing to gain from having me in his life, in his arms, in his bed. I remember that all those “pure” and “warm” feelings I had experienced in my dream, is all a mere illusion in the conscious world. Feelings like that are fleeting, I know it. And yet, my unconscious world seeks them, yearns for them and still believes that there are feelings like that somewhere out there. My unconscious still has hope for my boy…