Dreamer

Ever since I was little I’ve had the same reoccurring dream. Don’t worry; I’ll make this short as to not reveal the insanity of my psyche. But it’s always the same dream. I was about 7 and living where I grew up in a valley in Colorado. I peered out my window and caught a glimpse of something white moving with grace. Running out onto the porch I saw what it was. There, in a grass field between the trees was one unicorn. He stopped and stared at me, through me. He knew I could see him, yet he allowed me to stare. I knew without reason that this animal knew me; he understood what brought me to that porch seeking his comfort. I walked backwards into the house to tell my family that I’d seen him. They were all eating dinner as I told them of my incredible sighting. They all laughed, mocking me and my fantasies, but I knew better.

So I ended up alone and heading out again to see if he was still there. He was. I began to follow him until he led me into an open area flanked by pine trees. There before me was a small herd of the magnificent creatures. They allowed me to spend time with them, even run my hand along their bodies. It was always peaceful there, like the world had stopped to lend me a moment in that sun filled meadow.

I still have this same dream about once a month. It has changed a bit over the years and I can’t pinpoint when the change occurred. Now when I leave my disbelieving family in the kitchen and run to meet the unicorn he is there waiting as always. He turns to leave, looking back to make sure I follow him. I don’t move. He stops and paws at the ground in frustration. I turn my back on the beautiful animal. After all, he isn’t real right? When I glance back he is gone, disappeared into the trees. There is nothing left there to prove he ever existed. Every blade of grass is in its rightful place. I am left alone in my disbelief with only the comfort of the wind.

Why is it so hard for us to believe as we get older? Do we even realize the things we miss because of our cynicism? I have become quite adept at using sarcasm to hide from anything unwanted. The sad fact is that every time I hide I slip a little farther away from being able to believe. Turning my back can only leave me standing alone. I can no longer wonder what your intentions are, if you are a true friend, what it is you are trying to get out of me, why you’re here, if you really do care, if you remember, if you ever did love me, or if you'll be there. No, tonight I will stand and face you.

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” -- James Baldwin