The Dream.

I grabbed my keys and a duffle bag and walked out the door. I got in my car, started it, and called my roommate.

“I’m doing it.”

The past three years I’ve considered it. I think about it constantly, and I’ve had more dreams about it than I can count on my two hands. Each dream is the same, and I always wake up sad, fully knowing I had no control over it, but still upset I didn’t try harder.

In my dream, I’m standing in my parent’s driveway checking my watch every couple of minutes and looking down the road. The date is correct; I’ve only heard it a million times since he first told me. August 12th. Exactly ten days before I started my senior year of high school. That was the day he was leaving. I was scared. I don’t know why, but I start crying.

Chris isn’t there, and I’m sure I missed him. His car is absent from the normal crooked parking spot directly across from my front porch. Rain slowly begins to fall as I become frantic. I keep checking my watch and looking up and down the road, just more frequently. The thunder rolls and I begin sobbing. All I can think about is how I missed him and I missed my chance to tell him everything I never did.

Then miraculously, a very familiar arm reaches around my waste. My nose is filled with his scent and I feel the muscles in his arm tense up I go to turn around. I never actually get to find out if he was actually Chris… I always wake up clutching my pillows with tears dripping off my face.

Now as a college junior, I realized why I was having these dreams.