‘The ghost of you, it keeps me awake’

Worked till 1:37 a.m. last night. Granted, I didn’t start till 11 p.m. But, you know, details.

I don’t talk much of my psychic-ness because I haven’t been using it. I’ve kind of been happy (pause and re-read that again. Me. Happy) and I didn’t want to know the exact outcome of whatever was happening in my head, my heart and other highly sensitive areas. Just having feeling in them was enough.

Last night before bed, I asked my spirit guides “what if” — what if one decision was made differently.

I asked because I wanted to prove us right. Maybe we didn’t fuck this one up after all. Maybe we avoided real pain.

In any event, I wish I could say that my spirit guides showed me narrowly averted doom. Instead, they showed me what I never knew I wanted.

They showed me a city loft, something I have always longed for. They showed me a job I was good at.

That wasn’t all. They showed me heated, passionate arguments and vigorous make-up sex. They showed me my mom being healthy (the health care in said city is amazing. And free to those who need it) and my 6-year-old daughter with long red pigtails and blue eyes like her father’s.

She was exquisite. She had my laugh. When I’m happy, you can hear me laughing for miles. She got that from me. Oh those pretty eyes were so big and bright when we picked her up from my mom’s.

There was such a vivid conversation with him in my visit to this mythical place. On the subway ride home (he took charge of her. You could tell he was her favorite person), we talked about our long workdays and how we were giving the world this one amazing kid instead of having more, and put everything we had into protecting her and loving her and making her our world.

And in my (back in the present) mind, it’s almost too late for that. Emphasis on “almost.” Which is probably the wrong word to use because “never ever fucking ever” feels more appropriate. But, you know. miracles and such.

I couldn’t go further into the future than that time mostly because I woke up after two hours and couldn’t quiet my brain. Or my breathing.

Is it possible my dream was just that? Think what you want.

And I know to thank the universe that I’m alive, that I’m as whole as I’ve ever been, that at least he wasn’t the type to push me off a cruise ship or chain me to a bedpost without my permission. That great pain can’t exist without there having been great love in the first place.

But it’s a moment like this when you can see that happiness could have existed, you get pretty goddamned angry that no, instead we’ll just set fire to it all and pretend we were helpless bystanders and oh well it wasn’t meant to be. Bullshit.

“Boy you never told me
True love was going to hurt
True pain I don’t deserve
Truth is that I never learn.”

— Ella Henderson, “Ghost”

I’m not mad. Just baffled. And trying very hard to only listen to Melissa Etheridge’s first album 1,000 times and not 10,000.

I’ve decided to channel it all into the books I’ll never write. And to hope that now that I’ve seen a glimpse of how a girl should be treated and should feel, I’ll be able to find it again. Sure beats wondering if you didn’t fight hard enough to keep it when you had it in the first place.

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