I used to have this dream. I would open my eyes in a train station, and I’d be alone. It was just me. And I would be looking for L, but I couldn’t find her. And there was this feeling of dread in my stomach because I knew I wouldn’t find her. I knew she was gone. And I’d scream, I’d scream and scream in this dream, hoping somebody would answer, somebody would come and make it all good again.
And then he would show up. And he’d offer to help, opening all the wrong doors and leading me the wrong ways. Whatever I did, I would always end up on the same platform again. And he would say “Just forget” and he’d try to hold me “I’m here”.
That when everything would start to go blurry. It would be like fog, settling over my mind, making it fuzzy and mad. And then I would hear her scream and there was this feeling of true despair, of fear like I never felt in my life. She’d be lying on the rails and she wouldn’t move, she’d just scream for help, over and over again, and I’d be there frozen, his hand on my arm. Then, next thing I know, I’d be on the rails and she’d be above me, on the platform and the wind would rush through my hair and there would be this deafening noise from the train rushing towards me. The cold rails beneath me and her, trying desperately to do something, anything to help.
She was good, I used to say when told people about her. That’s a lie. She was the best. And I love my girlfriend, and I love my friends, and I love my family but nobody I ever met was as good as her. She was pure, in the most biblical way. She was everything. So as I woke up, often silent, sometimes crying and seldom screaming, the only thought in my head would be. “Thank God, it’s not her.”
