I dreamed last night. It wasn’t a nightmare, but…

The feeling it evoked is still with me. Like I laid down in a garden with him and there was peace. And I loved him, pure and simple. I loved him so completely in that moment and then forever.

I was camping with my family. My father was there only with a lot of children, none of whom I recognize, but in the dream, I knew them…and hated them. They were disobedient and had no schedule. They were the epitome of structureless chaos and I hated them.

We were camping with another family…friends as if this was a massive three day family reunion. I looked and I saw him. I loved him so completely. It started off simple. I looked at his phone and saw his profiles. I looked at him and saw that he loved me. I wanted nothing more than to die loving him and I knew I would then be happy.

We spent much of our time talking and the more we spoke the more we loved. We were by the sea and, to escape the noise and chaos, he took my hand and led me down to the sea. Along the beach there was a cave only accessible at low tide. He led me along into the cave where we found a set of old stairs that had been carved into the limestone centuries ago. It was lit with torches and there was a massive cavern inside.

He led me up to the top of the steps and there he kissed me. It was a kiss I melted into and the feeling enveloped me. All at once there was peace. And I breathed free of all stress. But our families would be looking for us so we headed back.

The rest of the dream was spent with he and I stealing moments to escape to the cavern. Then I learned he was married. It broke my heart and ate my insides. I left with him off the cliff only to discover it was shallow waters just before we landed.

I was certain we had shattered our legs. Miraculously, we were fin, but disoriented. He took my hand and we ran to the cave where we said our goodbyes.

I had to let him go and so, we parted ways. But on the final day of the reunion, on that day, I returned to the cave alone and he followed me there. He made love to me, unable to stay away and then we helped our families pack up and we departed. I would never see him again and so I clung to every part of him, the memory, his eyes, in that moment, I recalled everything as I let him go. And I remained with the memory of him. That peace I felt upon awakening.

 

I can’t help but recall a question my therapist asked me recently.

“Do you ever feel like ‘the other woman?'”

“Always,” I answered. “I’ve never not felt like the other woman.”

I detect the weight of this question. It involves my BPD. I’m not exactly certain of the significance, but I can sense the impact. This is huge. It leads to the core of my primary problem. I’m not ready. I won’t touch this. Not yet.