Perhaps it was the rain that day that began the feeling of nostalgia that now seems to engulf my entire being. I am not really sure, and when I think about it I am not sure of anything really, except the one memory that keeps coursing through my mind. The memory that came to me that day, one week and 4 days ago, the memory that now occupies all my time and energy. But the crazy thing about this memory is, I am not sure if it is a memory, a longing, a dream, or something that has yet to happen.
The rain splattered down on the windshield in a pattern that seemed strangely in time to the music emanating from the speakers. It made a lovely undertone to the sounds that came from his voice box, and when I think about it (as I have been doing nonstop), I do not recall any actual words. All I remember was the sound of his voice, and how lovely it seemed to me at that particular time.
The smile on his face was perfect; I could not have imagined anything that better described sheer bliss than the look in his eyes combined with the curve of his lips, and the dimples in his cheeks.
But still, my mind works overtime trying to solve the mystery that has consumed my thoughts. Is this a memory, or a dream? At times it comes to me as clearly as if it has happened yesterday, but occasionally it will be as foggy and unclear as dirty water. I shake my head as if trying to get the “memory” to fall right out of my ear, and stand up. I look down at the rock I had been sitting on, and notice that there is a piece of paper sitting neatly on it, as if it had been purposely placed there. I stare in disbelief for a moment; there is no way it had been placed there while I was sitting there.
I slowly bend down and take the paper in my fingers, treating it as though it could shatter to pieces at the gentlest touch. I silently unfold it and hear a gasp come from my mouth. At this moment it is as if I am standing over my own shoulder watching the tears begin to slowly fall from my eyes. I am not sure why I am crying really, perhaps it is the words on the paper or maybe it is the handwriting. But whatever it is, I know that it comes from him.
“Be calm my love, it is a memory, a dream, and a longing all in one. It is also a part of the future we will share again.” Those are the words on the paper, and those are the words that have come to mean the world to me. Because, at the moment when I read those words I realized that even though he was no longer in my life, he would always be a huge part of who I am. I felt a calm that I had not felt in a very long time, but yet something still felt wrong.
I closed my eyes and felt the rays of the sun on my face. I stood there for a long time like that, eyes closed, my entire being consisted of the smell of the forest, the sounds of birds chirping and the water slowly moving in the river next to me. I felt the wind moving lazily through my hair and the sun barely warming me. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw a world that was blurry and unclear. Blinking a few times, I tried to bring things back in to focus, to bring the calm that consumed my being back, to no avail. I began to hear a foreign noise breaking through in to my perfect world, a noise that didn’t make any sense but sounded wonderful.
The noise got stronger and stronger, and my wonderful world kept getting more and more blurry. I blinked more and more, and suddenly something became very clear.
“Darling, wake up. Wake up dear, look, it is raining.” I realized that I had been dreaming, and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a windshield, and rain making beautiful patterns as it streaked down. Then my sense of hearing kicked in and I heard the radio playing low. Looking over I saw the face of my husband curved upward, making the smile that always drove me crazy, and we locked eyes like we had done so many times before. My wonderful world existed here, in this car, with my husband, and I wondered to myself, why had I tried to remain in the dream? Something about that dream seemed important to me, and I tried to grasp on to the remaining shreds of it, but they slipped away, leaving me with only a feeling of confusion.


'Just a Dreamer' statistics: (click to read)

