Dreams can tell a person a lot of what they need, or what they want.

I was on a stage, being booed by the invisible audience in front of me. The lights were dimmed, and I didn’t know where to go. I ran to the wings and hid in a corner. I was scared, and humiliated. But for what, I didn’t know.
I look up and he’s standing there. I get up and stare at him. It truly is him. I reach out and pull his face towards mine. I kiss him. He’s pushes me away, and says something I don’t understand. I pull him in again and this time, he doesn’t pull away.

That’s when I woke up.

That very moment, in my bed, staring at the closet door and the blaring alarm clock, I knew it was wrong.

Two full weeks went by without a response to my many attempts at communication. I was becoming desperate. It was wrong; it had to be wrong. My subconscious knew everything. I waited, and waited, ignored other calls and texts and blamed my lack of talking on my sporadic rehearsal schedule.

Finally, a message came in. A hello. Thus began a large game of catch-up. There was a lot we had missed, for we hadn’t spoken in nearly 5 months. Suddenly, it was just like it used to be. We discuss music, my problems, his life, art, and anything that comes to mind. We argue about rap being good music, and whether or not we should start our homework. It felt happy, and carefree. Just like it should be.

One night I told him about the dream; leaving out the specifics about who my companion was. He couldn’t know that. He told me to really think about my current relationship. I did. I realized what I currently had wasn’t quite right. It seemed like there was a gaping hole in my feelings, which caused there to be a hole in the relationship.
I did what I thought I needed. Which was a break.

This break helped me analyze how I really felt.
However, right as I was about to make the move and do what I wanted, it all fell through.

Uncertainty crept into my thoughts. Guilt followed shortly after. It was a long train of unhappy thinking. I gave up. What I wanted was so far away; it would be useless to try.

I went crawling back to my old ways. I relapsed into forced love. It had been a hopeless venture.

But then I thought: even I can’t have him, why should I stay? It’s miserable trying to drive something into me I just don’t have, so what’s the point?

I ended it.

I was suddenly free. Released from the choking ropes that held me aloft. I was on the ground and ready to run.

I tested the waters, and found them easier to swim than before. There were no rocks on my feet to help me drown. Slowly and carefully I went to him, picking up pieces of myself along the way.
He was there, waiting for me.