i had a dream the other night that felt so real that i woke up disoriented. i couldn’t tell where i was, if i was asleep or awake, and if i still needed to make whatever call i thought i needed to in my dreams. i dreamed about the man i’ve been training myself to forget, because i allowed myself to fantasize about him again. after 8 months of being isolated and single in the pandemic, i needed to dip into the good memories to get myself through another night of alone-ness. loneliness i guess it what you would call that, but alone-ness is more of what i felt. alone. with no one. ness.
the human brain is amazing when it feels as though it’s in danger of not getting what it needs. the fact that i was able to go back into the memory stores from nearly 2 years ago to pluck out a good moment to keep me warm and tuck me in that night shows that even when i think i can’t go on, i’m not being taken care of, that i can and i am.
it has been a long and lonely pandemic. attempts at dating virtually have happened, but they have been lackluster. i long to see a smile across a bar, to have a flirty conversation and banter, to feel the weight of a man on top of me without an underlying fear of getting sick, of compromising everything i’ve worked so hard and so diligently for. i think i can make it, i know i can, i’ve been doing it. i just might need to dip into the archives to make it through. but the trick is not to linger in the archives. the archives are the archives for a reason. i don’t have to shut the door on the past, but i also don’t have to leave it open for so long. that’s how the flies get in.
