I had a dream last night, one of those dreams that you wake up a little shocked that a dream can be so real, leave you feeling a little weak, dizzy even.
In this dream I was at my parents old house in Cornwall, probably around my own age (why is it so hard to determine your age in dreams?) and behaving badly. I was in a dramatically bad mood and they couldn’t work out why. I couldnt even tell them. And so they had decided that they would have to do something drastic if I didn’t relent with those bad vibes very soon. I slept on it and woke the next day to see all the things thay had put in place to try and change me, or block me or both..both literal obstacles and mental attitudes.
I was mortified at being unable to tell them I was upset because I had been blown out by a man I felt very strongly about it, had had an intense crush on, but that I knew could go no further. I saw my mother looking cross, angry even that I was being so odd without any reason. Sometimes I wish we hadn´t had you she said. (she did actually say this to me once in the middle of a blazing row with my father, that happened quite a lot when I was in my mid teens and sadly, I never forgot it, forgave it but never forgot). I held her and started to cry. ´I miss you´´ I said. You are all I’ve got. I explained to her as best I could why I was so upset for truth to tell I could not really understand it either). She relented and said It´s ok, I understand now. It´ll all be ok soon. My eyes fill up with hot, salty tears.
And then I woke up.
I remembered the evening before. I still felt sore. Mentally not physically, and it was just a dull ache and not raw. I had become upset when Jose moved away from me in the pub. He had just sat opposite me rather than next to me. But I felt really let down. Let down more by myself because I´d thought that I had grown up enough to be mature about the crushes I had on other men. All those ones that had never been reciprocated. They mainly weren´t. Even when I was a kid growing up. On Huw, on the rugby team captain Bucket (so called as he was always needing one), on Andrew Moore, the really big one that drove me nearly insane. But I realised I hadn’t, that this crush had caught me unawares. Having not had one for years it was off my radar. To my surprise. I was angry with myself for feeling it ..and yet laughing as well at the absolute absurdity of it all.
Because, until it´s verbalised you always think, imagine, assume that the other person has some kind of reciprocated feelings too. Never mind if they are younger, handsome and witty. They laugh with you, they send messages of admiration, they sign off with kisses. Yet it doesnt proceed beyond that and you think maybe that they want more but don´t want to say it. That they are also secretly infatuated, surprised too at their own desire. So you go along with it, looking for any sign of desire. Expecting and getting a written kiss in the next text message. One step forward. Not coming to a meeting you had planned, one step backwards. Being there in the pub by themself when they had arranged to be there. Suddenly innocent actions all look more promising.
But then Juan had, suddenly, sat opposite. That distance suddenly spoke volumes. It wasnt just a metre away, no, it was a mile, a country, a lifetime away. And so I fell, came crashing down and back to earth. Back to reality. And then there comes a point when you have to just say it, to voice it, just to carry on. You have to move forwards and the only way is to smother it, by departing that stage forever or simply confront it. And so you confront it, knowing in your heart of hearts that your hopes, feelings, happiness are about to be steamrollered. But first you hint at it.
´Sorry I´ve been behaving oddly, it´s just difficult´
´Difficult, why, what´s up´ (tender look.. hope again).
´´I´ve fallen for you and it´s hard.. ´´
´Fallen´? (Blank look, you´re in full engage mode now, running up that hill..)
´You know a crush. I really, really, like you´. (You hold your breathe, oh shit, no going back now. You´re at the top of the hill and about to start freefalling back down).
´´Oh´´! (Nothing look.. nonplussed, fuck, how do I get out of this look. I´ve got my own problems god, I dont need another. Oh look, everyone else is still chatting away but looking out of the corner of their eyes. What´s going on there then?)
´´Oh , I see, oh. No, sorry. I´m sorry. Uh.. No´´ (apologetic look).
´´No, I didn´t mean that by the kisses, everyone gets them, no I didn’t mean that by the messages. I really think your a good person but no, not like that¨ (And I secretly hate him saying the word that´) .
And you talk. And you breathe. You hope the parachute has kicked in, and in truth, it usually has. There´s the ground, coming up fast… and it´s over. Wasn´t so painful was it. Now you know. Now you can move on, pick up the pieces, salvaging what you can and dusting yourself off as best you are able in the circumstances. A public scene. Oh fuck. But who cares?
´It´s ok, I´ll be over it, it´s fine, all my fault. I was just being really silly.. ´
But underneath the fine words, you can´t believe you let yourself do it again. You thought that kind of thing had finished years, decades ago. But here you are again, feeling like a little kid. And you think, gosh, if I can feel this way now, others must too. Even at sixty plus we can believe, behave like a little kid again. How is that possible even? And I remember others who said the same to me. (There were some, yes!) And how hard it is to really appreciate what they are saying to you when you are thinking no, no way, I´ve not go those kind of feelings towards you. Why ever did you think I might have. And I´m thinking as I write this of all the songs and words written by songwriters about unrequited love, lost love, broken love, tainted love. And suddenly how every song is there to taunt you, there to upset you. There to remind you. And yet, and yet, here I am, still standing.
Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did?
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid
I’m still standing after all this time
Picking up the pieces of my life, without you on my mind
I’m still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah
I’m still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah
And collectively, after a confrontation is over, we all breathe again and move on. Humbled in the knowledge that we can be floored so easily, that our feelings for each other are so important to our well being, our stability, our balance. And retrospectively we wish we had talked, wish we had been a little more articulate, wish we could have explained, wish we could have understood better, wish we had been a little more caring, a little more tender, a little more responsive in the past. Wish we could have explained to our parents how that unrequited crush was hurting us, it seemed at the time to our very soul. Wish we could have said what we truly, honestly felt. Wish that the consequences of reaching and going over that cliff edge hadn´t been too awful to contemplate.
Wish that we hadnt had to bottle so much up that it drove us nearly crazy. So that we were still having dreams about it, almost half a century on. And we realise we are, after all only, each and everyone of us, human. And there is so much visceral hatred in the world. We need Jose´s in this world though. A little more tenderness, a little more understanding, a little more analysis of each other could go a long, long way.
World, my wish is that you please do a little more listening in 2024.
