Saturday, March 02, 2019

I Know We're Cool

Why are you still in my dreams? I mean, seriously, after everything I went through, after all the anxiety and maybe even a little (OK, a lot. A ton...) of depression, and even more lack of closure. Why do dreams prevail and put you in a light I will most likely never know you in?

We will never be friends again. Sure, thank the Good Lord we get along really well right now. Professional AF, we jive, my loyalty hasn't changed, your eye is still on the prize. I think you're looking after me as much as I look after you. Maybe more. But it's just that. If either of us chose a different path, that path would definitely not include each other. Not only because of our history (which I probably remember a ton more than you do), but because of our personalities. I will admit at times I've thought you only have loyalty to yourself.

These dreams put you in a light that makes me think otherwise. They're... normal. There's a certain comfort between us. There's more than just the fact that we're looking at the same finish line. And I won't lie. I don't mind them. They're pleasant and kind and the type of stuff you talk about at the coffee machine because you really don't wanna get back to your cube.

But why so constant? Why so repetitive? And why my subconscious? That place where I have no control, yet I seem to be in much more control of what I say? Even though I don't mind the dreams, I don't think it's really fair. Because my conscious mind looks for reasons instead of just brushing it under the rug.

In this dream, I got to meet your girlfriend. Except she wasn't the girl I've seen in pics and videos. It was a foreign girl, probably Russian, but maybe Argentinian. I'm awful at determining accents. And you know that I loved? I was genuinely nice to her. Not kind, not just polite. I felt happy. For her and for you. Yet, she was shaking when I walked over and shook her hand. You had left her alone to go talk to someone at the bar. I asked her why she was shaking. She answered, I can't really remember what. But I actually comforted her. Told her she had nothing to be nervous about. That I was her girl. Just like I was yours. Even though she just met me, we're cool. It's just me. Yani. Loyal to the core. She wouldn't be an exception.

And right there, in my subconscious, I believed every word I said. I didn't say it so she'd stop shaking. Hell, that was my time to shine and intimidate the shit out of her. No. Instead I put her at complete ease. And the best part is, you weren't checking up on her, even though you saw me walk over. You weren't trying to overhear what I was telling her either. You knew what you had and you knew neither I nor the world could ruin it. You were happy, and that's all that mattered to me.

And now I write these words that are not even mine anymore, to hide three little wishes in here: I hope these dreams of an ideal comfort show up once in a while. I hope that you're genuinely happy. And I truly hope, that in a positive way, we're in each other's lives for years to come.

Yani
3/2/2019.-

2 comments:

Rufus said...

Que grande, da gusto que en la blogosfera (agonizante y artritica) aún quedan diamantes en bruto escondidos.escondidos.

GirlFromSantiago said...

Gracias! El placer es mío el que alguien me lea. Un abrazo.