Blue Eyes Cryin' In The Rain

 I have fantastical dreams sometimes. I honestly don't know how the mind works and I am thankful every day that my mind has not led me down some twisted path. I worry that I can recall my dreams with a bit of accuracy, even if the points I try to pin down are distorted. There is always something or someone in my dreams who has remained a constant image and I can't always place him. He's always blonde. He is always handsome. He is always just outside my reach. But I see him. Whenever there is a commotion, he is in chaos and I am in hiding. I am the cause of all his sorrows and he is the ache that breaks my heart. Whatever reason he keeps appearing to me, whether to scold me or to love me, is a mystery. His face takes many different forms of men that I have seen in my lifetime, but never really stays true to just one. 

I had a dream last night that I was at a concert. I was there with a possible love interest, someone that I was happy to be near. And in a matter of a few seconds, our chairs rose, and I became disoriented and fell from my chair and was dangling in the air from some kind of safety wire. I passed out, then woke up to people all around me wondering if I was okay. The person that I was there with, no longer existed and I was left wondering what had just happened. I woke up briefly and then went back to sleep, frustrated that my dream had ended in a cliffhanger. 

Another part of my dreaming world involved a man, a woman, another man, and some box with trinkets or rings that I can only assume were wedding rings between the two men. However, one of the men was most likely on the downlow when his boyfriend arrived at their house to confront the man and the woman. I am not sure how I got placed in the dream, but there was a commotion, then a struggle between the men to get the box that had the rings. The box ended up in my hands and I handed it to the man who was there to confront his boyfriend. I then spent the later part of the dream watching this man go off on people in a crowd, looking for the cause of his demise. I hid from him, hoping not to catch his wrath and I made my way through an unfamiliar neighborhood, down small, littered streets with old buildings and migrant people here and there. I spotted him from a distance, at a car dealership of some kind, and he threw pool noodles into the air like a spoiled child, got into a white car, and drove away. I remained hidden in the storeroom of a convenience market, behind some cardboard boxes until I knew it was safe to make my way back outside. That was when I got restless in bed and rolled over. The dream began and ended in seconds, but it felt like it went on forever. I couldn't get back to it. No matter how odd the feeling was, I was not permitted back into the story my mind had created. 

Dreams are weird like that. I have dreams about Jason. I hear him say things to me that I haven't heard him say in a very long time. One time, on the edge of waking, he said "you know I love you" to which I replied "I love you too!" and in an instant I knew that I was talking in my sleep. But I could feel his hands and arms wrapped around me. I could smell the sweetness of his cologne just as if he had actually been laying beside me in my bed. Some moments like that make me wonder why dreaming is the way that it is. And when it stops, when I stop, where will my dreams go?