What Dreams?

I haven’t checked in here in years. I’m not sure why or how time gets away from us. You wake you blink and five damn years have gone by….

I’m not one for excuses but I guess life just happens. And somehow in that happening things that were oh so important fall away and you just keep living. 

It’s strange and unnerving and beautiful in its own wild way. Life when you’re living it. 

In the end I’m glad I found my way back here because even if not one soul reads the nonsense that occupies my brain I’ll have written it. Bled it all out on the pages like I’ve done and will do again when time and life let me. 

Lately I’ve been having those insane dreams again. You know the ones…hot writhing bodies, connecting, separating, coming together in that awesome dance as old as time. Those dreams are very effective in making me hate sleep. Because it’s not always my dear husband staring in the sweaty tangled sheets no it seems to always be that one damn ex that you don’t want to remember. 

What I find utterly annoying is this wasn’t even a proper ex. Not really anyway he is what I like to refer to as a fuck buddy. A friend with benefits and no strings except that I was the only person in his bed while we played our sweaty little games. I’m not sure if he ever followed that rule as closely as I did. God knows people lie. But I like to think he was honest and our on again off again time was unstained by all that is in human nature to lie.

So back to the problem…the damn dreams. They are not often, I wouldn’t even say monthly maybe a handful of times a year and dear reader they are always always always HIM. Now let’s not say my hubby is lacking in this department the man can make my legs shake in quite a wonderful way. We are highly compatible in the bedroom. 

But HIM, the nameless albeit not faceless turquoise eyed asshole of my damn dreams was also very gifted. My mom recently told me about a show that she watched called Sex/Life. She shared because the sex was hot and women share things like shows movies or even books with hot sex.

Well that show rang a bell I didn’t want rung. Not my lack of a husband who was interested in getting busy. Or even the urge to find closure or good sex. It just reminded me of my Gosh Darn dreams about a man I haven’t talked to in a thousand years who still occupies my hottest dreams. 

I wonder, if the show had a point though. We look back at the things we did when we were wild and untethered to the heavy burdens of adult life. Like say motherhood or being a wife.

I was a mother even then and he was so not interested in dating because of it. And somehow I put up with this bullshit behavior because of sex and friendship and something he had that I could never ever define even now.

I don’t know what it is I wanted in him or what I was so attracted to. I had men who I wanted and couldn’t have, that happened, I was not immune to rejection, and this wasn’t it. It wasn’t anything I can find words for,  it was just there this yearning, this need, this crazy insane attraction. 

Once while at work (we did work together for years) I remember rounding a corner and he was there. We’d already slept together quite a few times but he had moved away and there I was seeing him for the first time in a while. I followed his body with my gaze and wound up slamming into the side of a cubicle that’s how enamored I was. 

Body slamming the side of a cubicle.

Witness to this utter embarrassment was another work colleague who laugh snorted all the way back to our own side of the office. 

What is it about the past that’s so intoxicating. Does the memory grow warmer with time or does the ugly parts just fade away? I know why it never worked out in the end. I know what made me put a final stop to it, but damn if I didn’t keep talking to him and holding out and hoping he’d look up one day after we’d stopped fucking and see in me the same damn unnameable thing I saw in him. 

That show seriously made me wonder. So I may have looked online at his profile (again) yes I creep on occasion and no I am not proud of it. I guess I hope he’ll get fat and ugly and start posting pictures of his wife and kids, except I don’t think he has any and that makes me both sad and mad at myself for creeping.

I love my husband. I love our family and the life we have together but dreams happen and while I’ll never talk to HIM ever again, he’s still in there somewhere floating around my subconscious like a stick of dynamite ready to blow my damn dreams up in a fit of fast hot naked fucking, and annoyingly with a vague half smile and eyes so damn intense it almost hurts to look at them…damn it 

I can’t control my dreams but if I could would I cut him out or dream him more? My heart screams erase him but my dreams…who knows what the hell  they’re fucking saying.