Dreams in Retrospect

Are they truly our deepest desires coming to haunt us as we sleep? Or are they a fleeting thought that crosses our mind in those few seconds? I contemplate this as I sit in bed, drenched in sweat-though the night is cold-and grasping for composure. Dreams, are they what could be? What will be? What we want to be? Is it possible for our dreams, something we think to be our own, are actually a product of someone else's thoughts?

I have had all sorts of dreams, some calming, others violent. But then there are those dreams, the ones that you feel with every inch of your body. These are what my girl friends call "yearning dreams". This is the reason for my ragged breath and cold sweat. I've had these dreams before and though I do wake with a jolt, they do not disturb me like this. I can normally blink away the images and realize that what I felt is not completely true, but this was far too much. Perhaps I should explain why it was so disturbing.

The images that played across my mind were at first very calming. Me walking with one of my past best friends along the docks down by the river. He was shoving me every now and again, indicating that I was saying something smart although the only thing I could hear was The Guilty Ones from Spring Awakening. As we continued on we wound up at a shack that I have seen maybe once or twice. We had left the docks and crossed the field to The Point, an area set out from the rest of the river. But this was with my best friend who had turned away from me for another girl, considered me the enemy in a fight too immature to mean anything. Yet in my dream he was smiling at me, being playful as we used to be. Then suddenly the dream cut out and we were in the shack, watching shooting stars blaze across the sky. Still there was no sound, instead there was Touch Me, also a number from Spring Awakening.

As the moonlight fell away I saw his eyes, but these weren't murky dream created eyes. His eyes were as blue as I remembered them being, evening having the slight hint of grey. I thought I felt his lips glide down my throat, could have swore his hands were running over my skin. The rough pads of his palms aren't similar to my smooth tender ones, so how is it that they felt so real, like they were there. His voice was as clear as day as if he was laying beside me in bed whispering those very words into my ear. The pain, the relief, the joy, everything was far too real.

So I awoke with a jolt, sweat dripping from my brow, body shaky. How is it that I felt him so vividly when my room was empty and dark. A few deep breaths have done me no good, so I have picked up my notepad. What is behind this dream? This man was like my brother for the longest time. We were never physical. Could it be that now that he is gone I want him in anyway I can have him? Is it that I just want to be friends again? Or is this something deeper? Perhaps I've always wanted to be physical with him but some part of my mind keeps such desires from me. Is it that since we are no longer close that I do not see him as a brother?

Another deep breath. Some part of me-as I stare out the window at the starlit sky-wishes that these thoughts were his, but I know this to be false. So I sit in this dark room staring out at the sky with an empty bed, but if I look just right it's as if I can see him out of the corner of my eye. Sleep is coming upon me again and so I let it overcome me. Good night.