I dreamt of him again. After so long, this is the first time that I saw his face, close and vivid — almost the same as the last time I saw him more than 7 years ago. He still looks the same, from the way I remembered him. That playful smile and that sincere look in his eyes, still there.
It was a party, I think. With old friends, our histories with each other somehow more significant than the memories I’ve made and the life I’ve led in the last 5 years of my life. I was sitting in a corner, trying to be the usual me when I’m with these people and then, suddenly, there he was. I am awkward as awkward can be. I can’t look at other people’s eyes for more than 5 seconds but there he appeared and held my gaze. It was a comfortable silence. I could feel my cheeks burning and a smile playing in my lips as I tried to hold it back.
“We need to talk,” he said. As if he was so sure that I’d agree, as if after all this time he knows I still can’t say no. “Alright,” I said after a moment. And we walked, and we talked. That he’s not really sure if I’ve moved on but he’s willing to give it a shot. That they broke up and, somehow, when he saw me again, things just clicked and then he knew. He asked if there was even the remotest possibility that I still feel something, anything. That he needed to see for himself, that he needed to try.
He paused for a moment, murmured “Say something, please.” And somehow I was just standing there, unsure what to say. He took it as a hesitation and right then and there, I saw the resignation in his smile.
But I knew why I am unsure and utterly shocked and uncharacteristically disoriented and completely lost for words: because… after all this time, I feel like I could still say “yes” in a heartbeat. That after all this time, I still want to make it work. And just like that, I said “ok“.
We smiled. Just looked at each other. He reached for my hands and I held his. And just like that we knew. At least, I knew — that in that moment, I’m in for something bigger and better and lovelier than the past I’ve clung unto for most of my formative years. The special and the little moments I’ve romanticized over and over until they almost seemed too perfect to be real. That significant chunk of my life that I’ve never had the courage to appreciate and give the importance it deserved because of my personal issues. And I was just thinking “here we are again” as he gazed at me and I melt in his eyes.
And then I woke up.
It did not open any wound. But it did remind me of a scar.
This post previously appeared in my now defunct blog Coffee-Stained Dreams on April 12, 2016.
Pages and Coffee Cups 