It’s a funny thing, love.
It comes and goes in your life. When you find love, you feel like a bird spreading its wings and soaring over the earth. You are buoyant. Everything seems magical. Life could not be better.
And when love goes, you are crushed. Heartbroken. Bereft. Inconsolable. The bright light that shone down on you so brightly and with such intensity flickers and then fades.
I had a weird dream last night. As you know, I’m sort of fascinated by dreams.
In the dream, one of my former loves, my last love, told me he didn’t love me anymore. That wasn’t really how it happened. But in my dream, it was.
I find it interesting that you can feel so deeply in a dream. I mean, how can dreams have feelings?
In the dream, I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I kept saying, “But don’t you remember this, or that?” Of course from a time when love was smoothly moving down the tracks.
In response, he looked at me like he didn’t know me. Which is worse, far worse, than hate.
I watched as love walked away. Taking my hopes and dreams with it.
The memories attached to that person, the love that once swelled in my heart, and what essentially tied me to him for life, forever tainted by the outcome.
In my dreams, sometimes I feel that once-upon-a-time love. I feel so deeply that often it jolts me awake. I lie in the dark, trying to get my bearings on where I am in time.
And slowly I realize that that was before, and this is now. That that time in my life is over. Not forgotten. Just over.
I remember, many years ago, picking him up at an airport. I can still recall the acute feeling of anticipation I had, for I knew we would now be together forever. Or so you always think.
I remember that I saw his face in the crowd, and my heart about burst with such an intense love that I wanted to cry. I was filled with such hope, and it was not yet measured or meted out. It was still filled to the brim with possibility.
And I also remember, as the months and then years passed, things changed. My feelings for him became sharp edges where he had chipped away at my devotion for him.
And every time there was a new hurt, another blow to the love I’d once felt, the filled balloon that was my deepest feelings for him lost air. Little by little. Until it finally collapsed altogether.
For no matter who you are, how rich you may be, how important a person you are, love still affects you the way it affects everyone else.
We do strange things in the name of love, don’t we?
We are a light, for the duration of that love, lit from within. We are hope tied to a bright balloon that either deflates, or is lost in the wind. Taking us to places we’ve never been.
Like the saying goes: “It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”