Real is Relative

Addie woke thirty minutes before her alarm was set to chime. She sighed deeply, leaned back on her pillow and tried closing her eyes again. She was in no hurry to begin another day exactly as the last. Addie wanted nothing more than to use her thirty minutes to fall back to sleep and resume her recurring dream. She lived for the nights her subconscious transported her to a life without worry and routine. It seemed like a cruel joke the Universe decided to play time and again, showing her the perfect existence just to have her wake into the mundane each morning. 

The memorable imagery could only be described as vivid and tangible, leaving her with a mental residue similar to the Deja vu phenomenon. Never quite the same; the conjuring of comfort, abundance and most of all desire varied in form but never intensity. Oh, the dreams that Addie welcomed nearly every night for fifteen years were not typically laden with physical intimacy. It was the visceral attraction between them that excited her like a deep and meaningful secret. Unspoken connection conveyed through engaged stares and loving touches. He stroked her hair, brushed his fingers lightly down her cheek or across her shoulders, sexier than any usual act of awkward gratification. He would say, “There’s just something about you.” and she melted.

If only they resisted the advice of those claiming to protect their best interest. Young and impressionable, they believed infatuation alone was responsible for their need to be together. Parents and friends bombarded their relationship with doubt and platitudes. “You’re too young” “It won’t last” “You owe it to yourselves to date other people.” They held on for as long as they could, thriving on their convictions. Years of inseparable euphoria did not convince their naysayers who were eventually successful in dismantling the foundation of what should have been. This plane, this other world was created for the sole purpose of having a place away from expectations of others to celebrate a love that transcended every imaginable dimension. They lived free, free from harsh judgements and envy. They recognized no obligation, only their commitment to each other. 

The first dreamlike confluence was a rescue mission. He appeared out of thin air and swept Addie away from a hovel she had been living in with images of unsavory people surrounding her tiny corner where she slept. A bare mattress strewn on the floor and meager pieces of clothing were her only possessions. Addie had no idea why she would be in such an objectionable situation or how he found her there. But he was there, standing in the doorway extending his hand with tears in his eyes. She gathered her things and allowed him to save her. There were no words, just his heroic and chivalrous actions. He loved her more than any words could ever describe. He never left her again. 

They aged together, gracefully and with mutual adoration as the dreams perpetuated night after night, year after year. His hair grayed but his eyes remained bright; emerald green and perfectly framed by his thick, lush lashes. Addie was never privy to her own image, only his reaction to their encounters. Each time she was graced with her perfect nightly visions, Addie anticipated the moments when his gaze made her feel wanted, beautiful and connected. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Was she too growing gray? Were there wrinkles forming on the very cheeks he loved to touch? It mattered not, as long as the dreams continued. Addie could not bring herself to entertain the notion of never again seeing him in their enigmatical life together. Was it entirely unrealistic to suppose their life would be just as it appeared to her if they had stayed together when they were mere children, dating, infatuated and sharing firsts with one another? 

Would there have been the wondrous mountain views from the bay windows that adorned the rustic home they shared? The aroma of brewing coffee invited them to fill their favorite mugs, placed side by side on the granite counter. Cool breezes enticed them to enjoy their first moments of the day together on the covered deck. The modest little boat would be tethered to the dock jutting out over the bank of the serene lake behind the house. How many winter evenings would they stoke the fire and enjoy its warmth and mesmerizing illumination in the otherwise dark and cozy living room? Addie dismissed the questions in favor of unwavering belief. Of course, their life together would be exactly as she envisioned it each time she closed her eyes. The recollection of holding one another on the overstuffed sectional, snuggling in the corner under the buffalo plaid throw gave Addie a sense of certain security. The idea of such comfort being but an illusion left Addie with feelings of guilt. Never again would she question the possibility of the perfect life, for each time she dreamed, she was living it. 

The alarm on her phone sounded. Addie reached for it and dismissed the familiar chime with a quick swipe on the screen. Reluctantly, she returned her sleep mask to the nightstand drawer, threw back the blankets and climbed from the comfortable portal that took her to and from her alternate existence. She surveyed her surroundings making note of the stark contrast to her mountain home. It was a perfectly acceptable apartment if basic necessities were all she required. Her favorite mug perched next to her twelve-dollar coffee maker on the Formica counter, in all its singularity, waited patiently each day to start Addie’s morning. The only view from her one paint sealed window was of the alley behind the laundromat on the corner. The sofa was tiny, and the chairs mismatched, not to mention the coffee table Addie single handedly dragged from the curb and hauled up two flights of stairs saving it from the landfill. The throw blanket faded and threadbare hardly denoted inviting comfort, even for one. 

She kept busy with work and hobbies distracting from the glaring truth; she was lonely during her waking hours; she missed him so. Addie tried to make her few and far between romantic attempts last for more than a week at a time. There hadn’t been many over the past fifteen years, as most couldn’t hold her interest beyond the first date. She cared about her appearance, kept her tiny apartment clean and well stocked with wine and charcuterie items. Small talk became an actual talent, as did listening to endless hours of bragging and ex-bashing.

With every disastrous encounter, Addie learned to adjust and compromise, losing bits and pieces of her true self in the process. There were a few men who had shown promise but as she teetered on the precipice of intimacy, Addie opted for leaving them on her doorstep, deflated and frustrated. The promise of true intimacy was too alluring to ignore and too real to disrespect with a meaningless dalliance.  There was simply no room for anyone else in her bed: in the portal. Guiltlessly abandoning her potentially romantic encounters on the other side of her door, Addie raced to ready herself for sleep. She longed for the moment she could reenter her real life, often using a sleeping pill to expedite the journey. She would appear somewhere either in their home in the mountains or in the yard down by the lake. He was always waiting with an inviting gaze and open arms, welcoming her home.