A Love Dreamt Alone

By Madison Simone

She looked at me, the same as she had for years, with those same soul-sucking eyes and a side smirk that covered her laughter. She broke eye contact but stayed smiling to herself.

“I never had a friend like you,” I said.

She laughed and said, “Because we were never really friends.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, thinking back to time she turned her head when I tried to kiss her on a night out.

She cuffed my chin with her hand, and through her skin, I felt the light of her soul dance with my darkness. 

“We’re gonna fall in love one day,” she said.

The pounding of my heartbeat woke me up, and there I sat, in my bed of dreams, wallowing in a life that wasn’t mine. 

A life where I could “fall in love,” like the movies, where that girl who made it clear she wanted nothing more than friendship would suddenly carry a heart that beat for me. A life where I deserved a girl like that, let alone, could get her.

Three months later, there we were, dancing and drinking from the same cup, smiling and laughing, as our friends made faces of disgust, jealous that two people could fall so hard for each other. I couldn’t believe it. She blessed a year of my life with love I hadn’t felt before, a whole year of putting my head of my pillow with ease and comfort, until one night, she crept back into my subconscious mind. 

I woke and opened my eyes to her, standing on the balcony, staring just above the swaying trees. 

I crept behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her cheek. 

“Good morning, my love,” I said, but she didn’t respond. 

She kept staring, I wasn’t sure at what exactly, but as still as she was, I knew her brain was sprinting. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She waited for a bit, then asked, “Do you love me as much as I love you?”

“Well, of course! I love you more than life itself!” I said.

A tear fell from her face.

“Then why are you going to hurt me?” she asked.

I tried to say, “my love, I would never hurt you,” but instead, I said, “because I hate myself.” 

I jolted awake, soaked in sweat and threw my hand over my heart. 

“Well, good morning to you too! Bad dream, my love?” she asked.

“You could say that,” I said, then kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter than I ever had before. It was just a dream. Right?

For two months, I lived in fear of myself, something in me that could take hold and turn my love cold. 

But once that third month hit, I didn’t know what came over me. I was overwhelmed at work and when I came home, we were fighting.

Out of nowhere, I blurted out, “Maybe we just want different things in life. Maybe we’re not meant for each other.”

I’ll never forget the look on her face, like I sucked the soul out of her body. She left.

And that was the last time I saw her, before she moved away, I didn’t know where to. I didn’t mean what I said, but I didn’t know how to fix it either, so I left it alone. I left her alone. She had to know my words weren’t weighted. She just needed time to realize that, I told myself. Months later, I tried to reach out to her, her friends too, but I never received a response. 

For months I sat alone, angry at myself, living with the memories of her that haunted every corner of my room. All her things I kept as emblems, infinite reminders of something beautiful I had, then lost.

Just when I thought I would never see her again, there she was, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“My love, I’ve missed you. I am so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to,” I said, but she didn’t respond. “Please, at least answer me this. Will you come back to me?”

She turned toward me, tears welled in her eyes, and said, “Yes. I come back to you.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” I said. “I’ve been waiting for your forgiveness.”

She rose and left the room.

I lived those next few months in joy, anticipating her return. I bought flowers once a week, until she finally came, as she said she would, three months later.

I swung open the door of my apartment with a bouquet of flowers, but my smile dissolved at her lifeless face, staring back at me, with a box of my old clothes in her hands. 

“My love, what are you doing?” I asked, as she sat the box in front of my feet.

“I love you, but not more than life. In fact, I love life, the twists and turns, all that’s in-store. What you said to me, in the end, took back all that you said prior. I felt I never knew you. I lost so much time, of my life, trying to make sense of your impulsive words, time that could’ve been spent being loved by someone who wouldn’t leave me in confusion.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

“I’m here to let go of the lingering parts of you,” she said. “Take care of yourself.” 

 I blinked my eyes, and again, I was left with the ghost of her to meet me in my sleep.

“Do you love me as much as I love you?” I asked.

She smiled to herself.

“Only in your dreams will you see me again, my love.”

By Madison Simone