THE LUNAR REPORT - "FIRST LOVE" Valentine's Day, 2010
The other night, I had a dream. Of my high school sweetheart. It wasn’t a wild, exciting, adolescent kind of dream like the ones I had after I left her to go away to college. It wasn’t the tearful kind of longing dream I had of her after she and I broke up shortly after I left. It was a tender dream. A kind and warm and tender dream.
We were together. Along with others – mostly family members of mine. We were all staying somewhere. Not her home. Not mine. Just somewhere. She had either a child or a pet with her. Maybe a dog or a cat. Everything was out in the open. There were no dark corners of hidden bedrooms or anything of the sort. Just all of us. Her smile was so sweet and warm.
You know what? It wasn’t even her in my dream. Well, it wasn’t the young woman I laughed with and held and kissed and fretted over and disappointed in 1972. It was the woman she is now. Today she is happily married with a couple of adult children. From what I gather, she has a wonderful family and life. I’ve seen recent photos. It was the 2010 version. She is still so beautiful.
In my dream, I was happy to see her. I remember feeling that I wanted more. Instead, I kept my emotional distance, and I made coffee for us all. As I was making the coffee, she, standing to the right of me, placed her right hand on my right side. At first, I thought it was just a “Hey, how are ya’, pal?” kind of touch. I continued making the coffee, expecting her hand to move away quickly. She held it there. For a long time. For the best part of the dream.
I finished the coffee preparations and moved closer to her. She didn’t back away. She may have moved closer. I moved my face toward hers, and we kissed. Not too passionately, but passionately enough. Being the man that I am, I somehow indicated through touch or attitude or something that we needed to take this further. She pulled back just slightly. Not enough to indicate total rejection. But enough to let me know that that time had long passed. She kissed me once more.
Eventually she and her child or cat or dog – well they left. I don’t remember kissing her again. I do remember wanting to. I remember seeing her warm and tender and sweet smile as she backed out through the door.
What the hell does all this mean? I’m not at all sure. Every instinct in my heart and soul tells me to turn this story into a Woody Allen type absurd observation of an absurd dream. But there’s something else in my heart. Something that was there the other night in my dream. Something that I’m guessing will be there always.
This woman - that young woman and her elder counterpart - will be with me forever. I guess that’s the point of all this. And it’s okay. We are where we are. We had what we had. It’s just that there’s a spot in my heart – a special one – that will never back out through a door. Not with her there.
We were together. Along with others – mostly family members of mine. We were all staying somewhere. Not her home. Not mine. Just somewhere. She had either a child or a pet with her. Maybe a dog or a cat. Everything was out in the open. There were no dark corners of hidden bedrooms or anything of the sort. Just all of us. Her smile was so sweet and warm.
You know what? It wasn’t even her in my dream. Well, it wasn’t the young woman I laughed with and held and kissed and fretted over and disappointed in 1972. It was the woman she is now. Today she is happily married with a couple of adult children. From what I gather, she has a wonderful family and life. I’ve seen recent photos. It was the 2010 version. She is still so beautiful.
In my dream, I was happy to see her. I remember feeling that I wanted more. Instead, I kept my emotional distance, and I made coffee for us all. As I was making the coffee, she, standing to the right of me, placed her right hand on my right side. At first, I thought it was just a “Hey, how are ya’, pal?” kind of touch. I continued making the coffee, expecting her hand to move away quickly. She held it there. For a long time. For the best part of the dream.
I finished the coffee preparations and moved closer to her. She didn’t back away. She may have moved closer. I moved my face toward hers, and we kissed. Not too passionately, but passionately enough. Being the man that I am, I somehow indicated through touch or attitude or something that we needed to take this further. She pulled back just slightly. Not enough to indicate total rejection. But enough to let me know that that time had long passed. She kissed me once more.
Eventually she and her child or cat or dog – well they left. I don’t remember kissing her again. I do remember wanting to. I remember seeing her warm and tender and sweet smile as she backed out through the door.
What the hell does all this mean? I’m not at all sure. Every instinct in my heart and soul tells me to turn this story into a Woody Allen type absurd observation of an absurd dream. But there’s something else in my heart. Something that was there the other night in my dream. Something that I’m guessing will be there always.
This woman - that young woman and her elder counterpart - will be with me forever. I guess that’s the point of all this. And it’s okay. We are where we are. We had what we had. It’s just that there’s a spot in my heart – a special one – that will never back out through a door. Not with her there.
Please visit the sites of some of my friends.
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