Last night I had a dream that I was getting married. I was dressed in a wedding dress. White with all the trimmings, decked out like a cake. My dress had a red sash. It was moments before the wedding and I knew I was making a mistake. I took my mom aside and told her I couldn't do it. She brought my soon to be husband into the room. When he approached me I could see the fear in his eyes, he told me it would be OK. He took a peice of white fabric, silk - long - a scarf or sash of some sort and he put my hands palm to palm and gently wrapped the fabric around my wrists, he then slowly placed his hands on mine and continued to wrap the fabric around both our hands he kept looking at me. He smiled, there were tears in his eyes. I could tell he was desperate for me to say that everything was fine. But it wasn't and he knew it.
I woke up incredibly sad. I'm not sure what it all meant. I think I'm coming to terms with the fact that I do not fit into the traditional role of wife and never will. I don't think that it was that particular point which saddened me. I think it was the look in his eyes and the fact that I'm not sure if I will ever be in a position where a man will look at me with that level of emotional investment. I think that's what saddens me.
My recent trip to Montreal took more of a toll on me than I had expected, I think much of this comes back to the lessons I learned there. It was not the person I was there with per se that pushed me into the grey but what I learned from him. He is probably one of the most intoxicatingly complex men I have ever met. Beautifully simple on the one hand while vast and enigmatic on the other. I went there expecting one thing, I found something else. What I found was not necessarily bad, it was more sobering than anything. He speaks the truth, simple, crisp often with the forwardness of a child who lacks an understanding of linguistic and social sugar coating. Many times his words stung (probably more than he realized or I ever let on) at times they did not. But it is the moments like pin pricks that have unfortunately left fingerprints in my dreams. Of course this is my fault since my self-image isn't strong enough to fight them off.
I wish I could just selectively splice moments of that rendezvous together, cutting out the parts that stung like hard rain drops.
A kiss in a crosswalk, fingers in belt loops, a sentence that I have decided I will always fall back to when I need to to be awakened
I just wish that it wasn't followed by the clear message that I was not quite rare enough.
Now don't get me wrong my faithful readers, I did not go there thinking that I was jumping into my destiny. I knew I was not but I liked to fantasize that I was. I was not surprised at the fact that I did not fit the bill. It still made my eyes sting and tingle however. But what good is life without a little folly.
4 years ago he was the one who got away, he still is...probably always will be. I am guilty of being infatuated with infatuation...actually it's not infatuation. It's more like intrigue & intoxication. I want to understand him but I know I never will and he will never let me.
...geez I don't know. I'm blathering on. I guess I'm having an introspective moment. Loneliness sometimes weighs heavy on the mind.
Cheers from the mind of the rare...but not rare enough
J
I woke up incredibly sad. I'm not sure what it all meant. I think I'm coming to terms with the fact that I do not fit into the traditional role of wife and never will. I don't think that it was that particular point which saddened me. I think it was the look in his eyes and the fact that I'm not sure if I will ever be in a position where a man will look at me with that level of emotional investment. I think that's what saddens me.
My recent trip to Montreal took more of a toll on me than I had expected, I think much of this comes back to the lessons I learned there. It was not the person I was there with per se that pushed me into the grey but what I learned from him. He is probably one of the most intoxicatingly complex men I have ever met. Beautifully simple on the one hand while vast and enigmatic on the other. I went there expecting one thing, I found something else. What I found was not necessarily bad, it was more sobering than anything. He speaks the truth, simple, crisp often with the forwardness of a child who lacks an understanding of linguistic and social sugar coating. Many times his words stung (probably more than he realized or I ever let on) at times they did not. But it is the moments like pin pricks that have unfortunately left fingerprints in my dreams. Of course this is my fault since my self-image isn't strong enough to fight them off.
I wish I could just selectively splice moments of that rendezvous together, cutting out the parts that stung like hard rain drops.
A kiss in a crosswalk, fingers in belt loops, a sentence that I have decided I will always fall back to when I need to to be awakened
"you are a rare find"
I just wish that it wasn't followed by the clear message that I was not quite rare enough.
Now don't get me wrong my faithful readers, I did not go there thinking that I was jumping into my destiny. I knew I was not but I liked to fantasize that I was. I was not surprised at the fact that I did not fit the bill. It still made my eyes sting and tingle however. But what good is life without a little folly.
4 years ago he was the one who got away, he still is...probably always will be. I am guilty of being infatuated with infatuation...actually it's not infatuation. It's more like intrigue & intoxication. I want to understand him but I know I never will and he will never let me.
...geez I don't know. I'm blathering on. I guess I'm having an introspective moment. Loneliness sometimes weighs heavy on the mind.
Cheers from the mind of the rare...but not rare enough
J
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