My boyfriend broke up with me three months ago. It was one hell of a doozy – mostly because it was my first serious relationship and, consequently, my first break-up. I even made a little 5-step guide for myself on getting over him, which for the most part I’ve completed with flying colours. Until… yep, that’s right. Last night, I had a dream about him.
It was inevitable. And looking back on what happened the night before, it totally makes sense. My brain synergised what I had been watching, the scene in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend when Rebecca gets trapped in an elevator with her sexy new boss Nathaniel, and who’s account I had been scrolling through on Instagram, Please Like Me star Keegan Joyce. So even though my ex-boyfriend looked, sounded and acted like Keegan Joyce, I still processed the dire elevator-then-rooftop entrapment situation as a red alert crisis. It also didn’t help that he had messaged me on Facebook, professing how much he missed me and wanted to be with me (something I fantasised about in the early stages of the break-up with an ice cream-pumped stomach and tear-swollen eyes).
Dreams always have that affect on me; the warping of reality that alters my memories of stone-cold silence and awkwardness between us into a fondness of burning longing. The relationship itself was worse than Mariah Carey’s New Years Eve performance last year and yet I woke up with a freshly picked scab over my heart. Missing him. Wanting to talk to him. Perhaps that was why I freaked out so much, I felt like my mind had betrayed what I had been working on for so long. Reaching a point where I believed to have finally found peace within myself, accepting the relationship was not good, was when my brain decided to conjure up images of a reconciliation.
The truth is the dream meant nothing. The last images I had seen were imprinted on the back of my eyeballs and my brain replayed them with different faces, which just so happened to be him. Brides-to-be dream of their exes the day before their weddings, so hey maybe this dream is a sign of a new relationship on the horizon. Or maybe I should just take my grandmother’s advice and sleep with sage under my pillows to keep the demons away. It could’ve been worse, at least Dream Me resisted his charms. I seriously doubt I could have handled an elevator sex dream without a fistful of muscle relaxers the next morning.