 I almost never remember my dreams, and when I do, they're dull and senseless. Last night I had a dream so vivid and perfect, that waking up was one of the greatest disappointments I've had to endure.
He was in my dream. The 'he' who inspires almost every word that I write. He who once was the glue that took the time to piece my broken soul back together. He who showed my what love what was, even though I was too blind and naive to see it and hold onto it. He who I let slip from my grasp and haunt me daily. He is the ghost I want to confront but never exercise from my life. He was my life. He now consumes my core, my being, my existence. He is a part of me. He is the one memory my mind can never erase. He was in my dream last night, and he was gone, like always, when I woke. In my dream, I received a letter. One of the letters, thick with time and commitment to writing me the most perfect words ever penned. Opening the letter was a delight within itself; breaking the seam his lips and tongue had once touched. I longed to be that seal, unbroken by my greedy, impatient fingers. Once the envelope was opened, and the letter unfolded, I was greeted by that bright, green calligraphy I had grown to love. The meticulous curl of each letter, as meaningful as every word penned. His words, his soul, flowed through his pen. Words for my eyes only. Words that I longed to hear. The dream was so real. The letter so tangible; so similar to the other letters I had once received over a year ago. They were not just green words on a page, they were him. Oh, how those words were him. They contained everything I had longed to hear for the past year. I was forgiven for letting him go. Time had not deepened the gap between our souls, it had closed it. The desire to once more be together was mutual. His charm and playfulness danced off the pages in this dream letter and straight into my heart. Struck with delight, like Cupid's arrow had again pierced me. I could not read the words on the pages quick enough. My pulse quickened with every letter. He wanted to be with me, in the same way that I wanted and needed to be with him. To feel whole again. The euphoria of my dream only escalated once I finished with the letter. I beckoned my sister into my room and told her what I had just read. Then, the doorbell rang. She went to answer it, and in the next moment my heart stopped. She guided him down the hallway he walked countless times before. He stood in the doorway; as perfect as he had been the last time I saw him. The familiar driver's hat perched upon his blonde hair. The smile that I had always delighted in, now only feet away. He was there. Though it was just a dream, it seemed so real. He was so tangible. It felt as though time had never passed. We had never parted. We were still together. Inseparable. Friends and loyal Lovers. All the things we had sworn to remain that day we first said 'I love you" and he gave me the most perfect gift. Not only did I have his heart, I had a symbol of it in the claddagh jewelry he gave me. My dream only got better as he walked towards me, silent. Smiling, he embraced me. In that moment, I felt as though I would collapse into the floor and sink into the abyss. His long, muscular arms felt like they had never left my body. His tight shoulders made me feel safe and secure. Even his scent danced in the air. This could not be a dream. He was there, in my arms. The past year of confusion, isolation, and conflict within myself was the dream. I would not make the mistake of falling asleep again, and letting him go. He was mine again. Is it fair to call this a dream when it ends like a nightmare? Waking means losing what I've wanted for so long. When the light of a new day seeps into the window and floods the room, he drowns into my psyche. He goes back to the place I've tried to bury him so that I can function daily. He's still with me, only hidden. I've never put much stock on dreams becoming reality, but if this did, I would not protest or think twice about it. They say everything happens for a reason, but I cannot figure out why I was so ignorant. How could life be cruel enough to place love on a silver platter at my feet and allow me to clumsily walk all over it? I've wondered if I was given this glimpse at love so I'd never make the mistake of letting it go again. What happens if it never comes again? What if that was my one shot at true happiness and I pissed it away in one night? Eight months of happiness, murdered by one night of self-doubt. I hope that the reason for my foolish actions will one day be revealed. Until then, I'll at least have this dream. This memory of true happiness clinging onto my soul.
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 It seems like each day, I see or hear something that worries me for the future. Today, while watching the news, a segment focused on teachers who are learning to use firearms. In the wake of the Connecticut school shooting, apparently educators see a need to brings firearms into schools and classrooms. This seems entirely counterproductive, in my opinion.
Why must fire always be fought with fire? The initiative to arm teachers is defended by calling this the best way to protect students. I believe the best way to protect students is to keep them as far away from firearms as possible. Personally, I believe that bringing a gun into a classroom would not make children feel safe. I think it would desensitize children to guns, and furthermore, teach children that violence is the best means of action against more violence. Before educating teachers on how to fire a weapon, teachers should be educated on how to recognize signs of psychological disorders. In school, I never even knew the name of my counselor. What good does it do to have a counselor in a school, if this person is not active in the school at all? I believe all students should spend one-on-one time with their counselor, and that this counselor be better trained on psychological issues. Not only that, I believe all teachers should have some psychological education under their belt, so they can recognize warning signs that something is not quite right with one of their students. Instead of sending a problem child to time-out or the principal, maybe they should be sent to the counselor first. So many students are sitting in classrooms today with issues just under the surface that no one takes the times to uncover or address. The shootings in schools, and movie theaters that have happened recently are at the hands of young individuals. Perhaps this senseless violence could have been avoided if someone had sense enough, while these individuals were in school, to look closely at their mental health. So many mental disorders go undetected today, which is surprising, considering how many people actually do struggle with their mental health. We live in a very fast paced society; a society that is very self-centered. Perhaps, instead of jumping the proverbial gun and setting our sights on arming teachers, we should pause, and instead place our sights on the students. Focus on the real issue here, because it's not guns. The real issue is mental health, and the blind eye that is turned to it. I hope that one day, no one will ever have to live in fear of sending their child to school. Or live in fear of venturing into public, because anyone could be armed and ready to pull the trigger at the drop of a hat. I'm not a fan of guns to begin with, but I believe the government shouldn't focus so much on reforming gun laws, they should invest in psychological education. That's one thing that really annoys me about America and the age that it's in; everyone wants to fix problems as quickly and painlessly as possible, instead of investing some time and effort. So many of the issues in this country could be fixed if people and politicians weren't so greedy with their money and time. Instead of being so self-centered, we should be society-centered, and look out for each other. I sadly don't see this happening any time in the foreseeable future; but maybe if more people started highlighting the real issues, eventually others will catch on and change will slowly become more visible.  I understand that I live in a ridiculously small, southern town, and that people here are not the most open minded. One thing I have been discovering disgustingly quick is the fact that members of my own family are horribly backwards thinking.
Just to clarify, I'm not talking about my mom, dad or sister; I'm going a bit further out in the family circle. During election season I had an eye opening conversation with a female family member. Some of the things she said utterly disgusted me. I had mentioned something about a female president and she responded with a conversation she had with a female coworker. They believed that a woman would not make a good president because "women can't control their emotions well and if she was having a bad day, she might decide to nuke everyone." This was not said in a joking manner, and I immediately wanted to punch her square in the vagina. This family member is only in her early thirties. The fact that she was so young, and pretty much sexist about her own gender shocked me. What happened to forward thinking younger generations? The conversation only sickened me more when the topic of abortion came up. Now, I'm pro-choice, simply because I believe every person should have control of their bodies (that includes who goes in and out). I understand that my family member is a devout Christian, so she's pro-life. However when I mentioned cases of rape, I was left flabbergasted when she said that she believed "God wanted that rape to happen and that child to be born." Question, what kind of God "wants" someone to get raped? Her logic completely disturbed me. I understand where her backwards thinking got its start, her mother is ridiculously closed minded and hypocritical. The thing that scares me though, is the fact that she's raising her twelve year old son to be judgmental and full of hate. Today her son was at my house and made remarks just as disturbing as his mother. He has just switched schools and was talking about his new classmates. He mentioned one boy whom he believes is gay. He said he'd never be his friend because he's weird. My mom chimed in with "It doesn't matter if he's gay or not, he might make a really good friend." My dear, young, little family member responded with "he already has a lot of friends, but they're all girls." Since he's in middle school, I said "Woah, maybe you should hang out with him then, you might get a girlfriend and a new bestfriend." The thing he said following this honestly hurt my heart, he said "They're all black girls and my mom wont let me date black girls." His grandmother was sitting there totally agreeing that he should not befriend the "gay" child or date outside of his race. I literally had to bite my tongue so I didn't go off on her. I've had arguments with her before about homosexuality and racism, and it's literally like talking to a wall. I'm so sick of people defending their hate with a Bible, or people sticking up for the rude remarks of others because the rude people are "from a different generation." Age has nothing to do with a person's capacity to hate or love or think. Ignorance breeds more ignorance. I'm so scared this vicious cycle of hate and misunderstanding is never going to cease, it's only going to perpetuate. Is there no way at all to get through to these people? I'm ashamed that these comments came from members of my own family. I really don't even want to be associated with them at this point. I just wish I knew how to get through the thick, Bible-numbed minds of these individuals and the countless others just like them. Why, in 2013, are the issues of racism, sexism, and homophobia still relevant at all? How can there ever be progress in this world if younger generations are brought up in a perverted time capsule? Is there hope for these people, or the future for that matter? |
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Lindsey. Twenty-Five. Currently pursuing a degree in Professional Writing & Film Studies.
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