I had a dream last night, and I haven’t figured out how I feel about it.

In the dream there was a person I was interested in. Not a person I actually know, but a person who was supposed to represent a romantic interest for me. In the dream his name was Conner, which is interesting because in my dreams people don’t normally have names.

I can sort of remember his face. Short blond hair. Relatively built. Muscular without being crazy about it. Tasteful I suppose is a good way to describe it. Natural.

Anyway, somehow through the events in the dream he ended up on top of me. We were wrestling, or something to that effect, something non-sexual. Playful.

I ended up hugging him in that position. My arms wrapping around his neck, my legs tangling with his, my face buried into the crook of his neck so I could breath in his scent. Our bodies as close as possible with clothing being in the way.

And instead of it turning sexual like it normally would in real life, it filled me with a sense of peace, acceptance. Some uncontrollable warmth that emanated from my chest, my heart chakra, and filled my whole being to overflowing.

It spilled out of me and into him, and we both shared in that moment of rightness. That feeling like this is what true acceptance is, what the rest of forever should feel like.

Love.

The dream continued and I’m not sure what led to the next events, but the next scene I remember was of Conner in the ocean. The waves were gentle at first, but began to turn harsh, more violent.

He treaded water at first. Confused by the change in the waves. The more forceful they became the more he struggled to stay above water. Harder and harder he fought. I could see the desperation in his eyes, in his body and he fought with nature, fought against forces no mortal would ever be able to over come. He was going to lose, he was going to drown, but he wasn’t going to go without trying his hardest to survive. To live.

And then suddenly I was myself, standing in the doorway looking at Conner on the bed, his body seizing and convulsing.

I ran to him, not knowing what to do. Just knowing that he was leaving me and that he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave me alone.

I was in the ocean with him. I was reaching out to him. My hands on his face, crying.

“Stay with me! Don’t leave me. Stay with me, please!” I was yelling, screaming. My chest hurt so badly.

His eyes saw me. He heard me for the briefest of moments, I saw the recognition, but it was too late. I was too late. And his face slipped under the water, and everything was peaceful. Calm, and I was alone.

In the dream I woke up.

Connor wasn’t dead. It has been a horrible dream. It had been so terrible, and I didn’t know how to talk to him about it. I didn’t know how to say that I held him as he died in my arms. I didn’t know how to put all of the hurt and anguish into words to tell him what I was feeling.

That I had lost him once, and I didn’t think I would ever be able to go through it again.

The scene shifted and I was in a lunchroom, something like a cafeteria for school. I guess we were in college.

I was standing talking to a girl, someone who was interested in me, but whom I didn’t have true feelings for.

She knew something was wrong, and thought it was something to do with Connor and I. She said I should leave him and be with her.

I was still hurt over the dream even though it had been a few days. I felt cold and alone. I didn’t want to feel the warmth anymore because I knew how much it hurt to lose it. How losing it would break me.

She said I should tell Connor that I never felt anything for him, and I didn’t have a crush on him, and that I wanted to be with her.

When Connor walked up to us, that’s what I did. I didn’t cry, I didn’t explain why. I stated it like facts, cold and detached, not meeting his eyes because I knew I was killing something inside him. And because I was killing something inside myself.

A mercy killing, I told myself as I sunk deeper into my inner ice cave. No feelings, no hurt. Nothing. Coldness, suspension. Stillness. Safety.

I sank behind my ice walls and shut everything out. Curled up as my inner four year old, holding my knees on the rocks, knowing that right now nothing hurts because I’m numb, non-moving. But as soon as I tried to do anything it would be horrible. So I should stay still.

That’s when I woke up for real.

So many conflicting emotions. I don’t even know where to begin with this one.