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At a Place Named Beautiful Dream

Part I.

5 years ago, on this same date, you had left. You had returned once before–only to leave again. And today, once more, you had comeback.

And why are you here? on this twelve- year anniversary of the event that had driven you from your dreams, from me? Had you come to reclaim those wondrous dreams? Of course not. You knew the truth of those dreams–impossible–and the truth of those shattering moments of violence.

Those moments had freed me fromΒ you; freed me to fall in love with someone who could promise me all that you could not. And i had fallen in love with such a man.

You fought a piercing ache with the most powerful truth of all. This was where I belonged. Here. With you. At a place named Beautiful Dream. Not with him. Not anywhere. Not ever.

So why, if not in pursuit of your own beautiful dream, were you driving along the cypress-sheltered lane of snow white cobblestones that was the grand entrance? Because of a nightmare, not a dream, a haunting image of cinnamon and crimson and snow–of me, stabbed, bleeding, calling to you, pleading with you not to leave.

The nightmare had been with me for five years, sometimes silent, sometimes screaming, never far away, and not fading even with the passage of time. Indeed, during this past year, it had become more vivid than before, and more relentless, tormenting me even in the light of day.

All the hours of your life, either waking or asleep, could be tormented forever. it couldn’t matter less. You deserved nightmares, just as I deserved dreams. It wasn’t to rid yourself of your nightmare, but for me–because the newly vivid images came with the persistent worry that I was in trouble, needing help. needing you.

You had returned. you had believed, then, that you were answering the silent call of my heart.

Yes. The bright blue eyes that had sparkled with joy as I envisioned my glorious future would doubtless be aglow with bold imaginings still. I had been so confident of my dreams for myself. And if our lives were taken together, entwined as one–as once we had planned to do–then all of my grand visions had indeed come true.Your songs of love were supposed to have ours, duets sung only and always together.

Would I even remember I had once imagined that we would dazzle the world with songs of love? If so, the memory would come without a flicker of regret. I would know, as you did, as we both had known even then, that the dream I was living, of family and of love, was the only dream that mattered.

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