Jack and the DreamStalk
I had an ex-boyfriend named Jack. I could go into great detail about him, but I really don't feel like it, so I won't. I will tell you this: I had a dream about him last night. For some reason, I dream about him quite often. We were together for a year. (big Whoop). I'm still friends with his sister, and maybe that's where the dreams come from, but I guess I don't know for sure.
In this dream, I was walking through the county fair that was held in my home town. Except I'm kind of in a field. (Bear with me, my dreams are juxtaposed.) Jack walked out of this trailer and he was eating something. He looked at me and his eyes got really wide. "Baby!" he said. (He always called me that.) I tried to explain why I gained so much weight and how I gained it, but he didn't care. He kept looking at me, right in my eyes and kept saying, "I don't care about that. I'm just glad you're back." I didn't have the heart to tell him that I couldn't be back. I was a married woman. He was so happy that we were back together. The quality of light in my dream was dusky-perfect. Kind of a yellowish rosy quality that made me want to sob out loud or die trying. Things in the background weren't quite clear. Fuzzy and cottony, actually. All I saw was him and his caramel brown eyes.
We went sledding in my dream. On the ground. Then, on the streets.
Ack!! What the hell is that about? Jack...Jack broke my heart. Well, we broke each other's hearts. We were just not meant to be. He had a little boy/grown man quality about him that drew me to him in the first place. I didn't know whether to protect him or marry him. We were engaged for a short time, but a) he couldn't keep a job and b) we fought ALL THE TIME. It was a young love, stupid love type thing. Of course there were many other factors, but I don't have all day. It got so bad that he made me forget who I was. It took a while to find myself again. Not to sound all 60's about it. I didn't go "find myself" by doing macrame and smoking pot, although those both sounded good at the time. I remember one time, shortly after moving out of the apartment we shared, he called me and told me he couldn't live without me. It was too hard. He was married to someone else a year later. They're still together, and have about 1903871034 kids. Give or take. I talk to his sister sometime, and even though I don't ask, she always tells me how he's doing. She knows there's still some odd connection there. She's told me so. She said he asks (when his wife isn't around) if she's talked to me lately. He wants to know how I'm doing and stuff.
I don't mind dreaming about him. It reminds me of an older time, ago. You know ago? I've been there, I'm sure you have, too. I wish I could control my dreams a little better. Because if I could, believe me, there would be more macrame and pot.
In this dream, I was walking through the county fair that was held in my home town. Except I'm kind of in a field. (Bear with me, my dreams are juxtaposed.) Jack walked out of this trailer and he was eating something. He looked at me and his eyes got really wide. "Baby!" he said. (He always called me that.) I tried to explain why I gained so much weight and how I gained it, but he didn't care. He kept looking at me, right in my eyes and kept saying, "I don't care about that. I'm just glad you're back." I didn't have the heart to tell him that I couldn't be back. I was a married woman. He was so happy that we were back together. The quality of light in my dream was dusky-perfect. Kind of a yellowish rosy quality that made me want to sob out loud or die trying. Things in the background weren't quite clear. Fuzzy and cottony, actually. All I saw was him and his caramel brown eyes.
We went sledding in my dream. On the ground. Then, on the streets.
Ack!! What the hell is that about? Jack...Jack broke my heart. Well, we broke each other's hearts. We were just not meant to be. He had a little boy/grown man quality about him that drew me to him in the first place. I didn't know whether to protect him or marry him. We were engaged for a short time, but a) he couldn't keep a job and b) we fought ALL THE TIME. It was a young love, stupid love type thing. Of course there were many other factors, but I don't have all day. It got so bad that he made me forget who I was. It took a while to find myself again. Not to sound all 60's about it. I didn't go "find myself" by doing macrame and smoking pot, although those both sounded good at the time. I remember one time, shortly after moving out of the apartment we shared, he called me and told me he couldn't live without me. It was too hard. He was married to someone else a year later. They're still together, and have about 1903871034 kids. Give or take. I talk to his sister sometime, and even though I don't ask, she always tells me how he's doing. She knows there's still some odd connection there. She's told me so. She said he asks (when his wife isn't around) if she's talked to me lately. He wants to know how I'm doing and stuff.
I don't mind dreaming about him. It reminds me of an older time, ago. You know ago? I've been there, I'm sure you have, too. I wish I could control my dreams a little better. Because if I could, believe me, there would be more macrame and pot.
posted by Nebraska Angie @ 7:05 PM
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