Last Night...

I dreamed the most vivid dream I’ve had in a while.

I dreamed of cramped rooms, and ugly, worn-out, lopsided furniture. Of strangers, coming-and-going, of cold food and cheap hot chocolate.

And I learned that even though I love it now, I truly cannot wait until the day that I’m no longer a starving college student.

I dreamed of small children, loud voices and demands, and an exhausted mind. Of tired arms and legs. Of terrible grades and wide, exuberant smiles.

And I learned that mentoring is a fun job, but teaching is not something I could do permanently.

I dreamed of that first boy who, in his small junior high (and part of high school) hand, held my little-girl heart and didn’t ever know it. (But that was fine.) And his face blurred, shifted, changed, morphed (dreams do that) into the first boy who held my heart knowingly. Who, though he knew I’d waited for over 21 years to finally feel this way, thoughtlessly broke it as he cruelly tossed it aside for someone else’s.

And yet, knowing this, knowing full well in the dream what he had done in life, I didn’t want to wake up. Because somehow the pain of reality became only an afterthought in my dizzy, fuzzy subconscious. Because (subconsciously) I once again felt the warmth of his hand in mine, and the beautiful safety of an embrace that was meant only for me. (He may have kissed me, but that definitely was fictional, because I’ve never been kissed. Haha.)

And I learned that I’m innocent. I’m naïve. More often than not, I’m a coward who finds it easy to stand up for others, but never for herself. I learned that I have to change that in myself. It may take years of practice.

Yet… I know something.

While this little dream from last night

is better than my current reality,

I realize that 

one day, my reality will be BETTER than my dreams.

No matter how long it takes,

I think that’s worth waiting for, don’t you?