Love Story Of A Dreamer


I’d see you, standing aside, an outcast, peering at the intriguing panoply of human interaction splayed out before you and feeling no urge to join. Somehow, somewhere, we’d get to know each other, you and I. Two dreamers, souls fused together. Perhaps while walking home after school, crossing paths. Perhaps in class, during a philosophical discussion. Perhaps in the library, reaching for the same book – well, that sort of thing is always rather cute, isn’t it?

We’d both be pretty tentative at first. It is a part of our personalities. But gradually, we’d get to know each other, and open up a world of delights. The mindless chatter of the halls would no longer torment us, make us feel removed and detached from humanity, for we would have each other. When school becomes unbearable, we’d find solace in a squeeze of the hands, a glance from across the room.

We’d spend our breaks walking on the oval beside the trees, feeling the sunlight and wind on her faces and cheeks, and laugh and exult at being alive. Peer into each other’s souls, and cry with happiness at what we see there. Lie side by side on the grass, holding hands. Hug, an embrace that wipes out the begrimed world and polishes our hearts, makes them beat with new shiny fervor. Imagine crazy surreal worlds, build our own fantasy empires. You’d be my knight in partner. We’d save the world, one magical thought at a time. Rescue ants from watery deaths. Cock our heads at crows and divine the truth in their red beady eyes. Walk and look up at the blue, blue sky and feel the bigness and wonder of it fill our chests and minds, so engrossed we bump into trees and then laugh at our blunders. And we’d talk. About everything. And in our mutual thinking, find a joy that brings tears to our eyes.

It will be a love that transcends our bodies. We’d sit in classroom together, estranged from the other students, in our own little universe, slipping notes to each on philosophical musings and other bubbles of our minds. They won’t be able to hurt us. It would be not be like before, when I was alone, and wandered my own path of misery. When the judgmental stares – she’s odd – would bore into my back like acid. No, together, hand in hand, I would be the happiest girl alive. You’d be the alkaline of my life, and I’m sorry if that sounds cheesy. You would understand. And that understanding would blossom in our hearts until they are like flowers connected with a single-vine strand, entangled with emotions, curling up towards sunlight and hope and happiness.

And perhaps we would kiss, one night, beneath the moon, and taste shimmering stardust on our tongues, our laughter sending up spurts of firework into the night. Perhaps we would grow old together. Relying each other to navigate the world, morphing periodically into anchors or ships to move forward or stay behind and live.

We’d spend our weekdays writing and reading, and even enduring a day job would be easier knowing the other exists, and will be waiting for us when we get home; even if that home is a dingy little apartment with mold stains on the ceiling. We’re dreamers. We can play pretend, imagine it to be a palace, serve cheap biscuits on cracked platters and pretend they are fancy entrees. Bow to one another and say how do you do m’lady.

And on the weekends, we could go for walks, go to the library together. Spend our nights cuddled up on the armchair reading and flying to other worlds but always feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies, tethering us to the delicious reality of our love. And of course, there’d be cats, and you’d love the furry felines just as much as I do. Fall asleep beside each other and wake up in the middle of the night and feel safe and talk about life and love and everything.

Have you ever wanted something so much it hurts? Like the yearning is so immense you feel it as a physical tug of agony in your chest? I haven’t met you yet. Maybe you don’t exist. Maybe our paths will never cross. Maybe when we meet you won’t like me, or we won’t give each other a chance to open up to one another.

But there are so many people in this world. Surely someone like you is out there, somewhere. I believe you are out there, and you’re wishing for the same thing. I really do. We’ll find each other. We must. I’d just like to say in advance that I kind of love you. I don’t even know you yet, but I do. I’ll be alright spinning the rest of my life on my own, I don’t need a person to complete my life; but it’s always nice to have a spider buddy to make pretty webs with. Like an old ladies knitting session.

Stay dreamy.

PS: It’s okay if you’re not crazy about cats. I won’t hold that against you.