Truly Madly Imaginary

Before I start, let me quickly state that this post won’t be ending in me telling you how to recycle better or how I’ve recently discovered the healing powers of wheatgrass. It’s been a while since I wrote about something completely personal with no moral at the end, so it feels a little odd to be bucking my own trend, but here we go:
I woke up this morning, instantly mourning for a love so deep but which had only lasted for between forty-five minutes and an hour (depending on how long my sleep cycle was).
Last night, I had the "How’s your love life?" conversation on the bus with my friend Adam, which is always a fun one… I’m not particularly lonely, but having been single now for over two years, it does play on my mind a bit. We had a great chat, discussing how it’s pretty hard to meet people ‘these days’ because of everyone having their heads down in their phones or staring out of windows with earphones in. We were on our way to meet friends for drinks, and the love-life topic seamlessly brought itself to a close after a while, as we drifted into a different conversation.
At the end of the night, after a glorious chip naan, a little smoke and an episode of Friends, I sunk into my pillow around 2am. I’d woken up at 6.30am for work that day, so I fell asleep (what felt like) instantly.
The conversation with Adam had definitely lingered in my subconscious, and I had one of the most intense dreams I’ve ever had. I’m not going to bother explaining it all, because I’m sure we all feel that same kind of exasperation when we know people can’t quite see a dream like we did, no matter the detail in which we try to explain it. I’ll just say this: it started with me turning up to a house party in my gym clothes, and ended with a whirlwind, hundred-miles-an-hour, head over heels romance that left me speechless.
Waking up from a dream so perfect and so tangibly life-like, you can’t ignore the feelings of loss when you suddenly realise it’s not real anymore. I woke up and stared at the ceiling for a while, blinking until I realised I was definitely awake, then reminisced over the tiny details which only existed in my own – overly-imaginative – brain.
I dragged myself out of bed and stood in the shower, staring down at my feet. I couldn’t ignore the feeling of emptiness washing over me. I felt heartbroken. Truly, bleakly, numbingly heartbroken.
An hour later, I’m sat in Specsavers, waiting for lovely Alex with the tiny moustache to tell me what’s wrong with my stupid eyes, when Atomic Kittens’ "Whole Again" comes on the tinny speakers.
SIDENOTE: When you were a kid, did you ever sit in the back of the car and stare out of the window, pretending you were in the music videos of certain songs which came on the radio? Mouthing the words and feeling – at the age of 9 – like you completely understood what love and heartache was? No? Just me? Ok then… Anyway, “Whole Again” was one of those for me.
The song punches me in the heart and I almost want to cry as I relive the whole thing again; the dream, the waking up, the emptiness. I probably sound like an absolutely deluded, emotional lunatic right now, and anyone walking past me on the street to and from the opticians must have thought I’d lost a loved one. I just can’t explain how real it felt.
I’ve not got much left to say, and this has been a very weird and pointless bulk of writing, but I wanted to dedicate this to Mark – yes, that’s his name. Exotic, eh?
Dearest Mark, wherever you are (maybe you exist, most likely you don’t), you stupid, wonderful figment of my imagination. This feeling will probably be gone by tomorrow, and I’ll feel (on a minute scale) like a widower finally moving on once I’ve come to terms with the loss of what was never there. I want to acknowledge the fleeting time we had together, though. You made me feel things I hadn’t in a long time, and what we shared in a single REM dream cycle was better than any of the dates I’ve been on in the last six months combined x100. I hope you have a nice life, floating around in the back of my brain for eternity… but please don’t come back anytime soon. I don’t think I can hack feeling like this on a regular basis.
Your deluded imaginary lover x

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