I WAS Married, Lonely And Crave Intimacy
The Memory Of The Dream... (This is a re-post of a piece I will place in my shared pictures on my cloud space to explain this one particular file of pictures of the ex and myself. After I arrange all my pictures and share only the ones I want shared, I will grant the ex access to them. I want her and everyone else to read this...)
You spend almost 10 years loving somebody and you can't just cut them out of your past. Especially if she's the mother of your children. But when the woman you love commits a series of acts so heinous against you and all you stand for, with no repentance in her heart, you have to do what's best for your children and yourself. Knowing damn well she shattered your dream of living the rest of your life with someone is enough to drive you mad.
As maddening as it can be to have your dream deferred, you cannot deny the dream existed. At an early age I became aware of shattered dreams. Growing up I had a recurring dream. I was at Disney World. Everybody was happy. Everything was good. We were having a really good time. Throughout my childhood Disney World was the happiest place in the world. Going there felt almost like treading on holy ground.
My dream of Disney World progressed along and I noticed ob<x>jects that did not belong at Disney World but were familiar to me in my life. Maybe my backyard fence. Maybe the hallway of my old school. Maybe a familiar street. Maybe the kitchen of my childhood home. And from there the dream unravels. I start to notice more familiar things and then come to realize I'm not at Disney World anymore.
The last time this happened I was in USAF Basic Military Training at Lackland AFB, Texas. I was at Disney World marching in some kind of parade right up Main Street toward Cinderella's Castle. I was in USAF uniform. As a marching band played, people I had known over my lifetime were cheering for me along the street. And somehow they had started dwindling. I looked around and somehow the buildings along the street were not there, replaced by the vast green lawns in the training area. I realized I was alone. No music. Completely surrounded by the militaristic scenery of Lackland AFB.
Somehow that recurring dream prepared me for this rude awakening. Hope for a better future helped me keep the dream alive. I can't remember the exact date of when the dream shattered. But up until then I tried to ignore the cracks. My mind tried to piece the dream back together until it was beyond repair. When it finally shattered, all I could do is to accept this rude awakening and prepare for reality. Because this relationship was not real. As much as I tried to hold on to it, it was nothing but a dream.
When you pick up a handful of sand, regardless of how tight you hold it, it always runs through your fingers. As you can see with these pictures, there were words of love written in the sand. They meant so much to me back on the day of their insc<x>ription. But winds blow. Tides ebb and flow. And rain washes away those words that meant so much to me, leaving no trace, and no memory, said insc<x>riptions were even there.
Today as I stand on that same beach I search for that insc<x>ription. No more. No more words of love. No more proof that someone who shared the beach once loved me, or so I thought. After years of wind, tides, and rain, I find myself here again with nothing. Nothing but the memory of the dream.
You spend almost 10 years loving somebody and you can't just cut them out of your past. Especially if she's the mother of your children. But when the woman you love commits a series of acts so heinous against you and all you stand for, with no repentance in her heart, you have to do what's best for your children and yourself. Knowing damn well she shattered your dream of living the rest of your life with someone is enough to drive you mad.
As maddening as it can be to have your dream deferred, you cannot deny the dream existed. At an early age I became aware of shattered dreams. Growing up I had a recurring dream. I was at Disney World. Everybody was happy. Everything was good. We were having a really good time. Throughout my childhood Disney World was the happiest place in the world. Going there felt almost like treading on holy ground.
My dream of Disney World progressed along and I noticed ob<x>jects that did not belong at Disney World but were familiar to me in my life. Maybe my backyard fence. Maybe the hallway of my old school. Maybe a familiar street. Maybe the kitchen of my childhood home. And from there the dream unravels. I start to notice more familiar things and then come to realize I'm not at Disney World anymore.
The last time this happened I was in USAF Basic Military Training at Lackland AFB, Texas. I was at Disney World marching in some kind of parade right up Main Street toward Cinderella's Castle. I was in USAF uniform. As a marching band played, people I had known over my lifetime were cheering for me along the street. And somehow they had started dwindling. I looked around and somehow the buildings along the street were not there, replaced by the vast green lawns in the training area. I realized I was alone. No music. Completely surrounded by the militaristic scenery of Lackland AFB.
Somehow that recurring dream prepared me for this rude awakening. Hope for a better future helped me keep the dream alive. I can't remember the exact date of when the dream shattered. But up until then I tried to ignore the cracks. My mind tried to piece the dream back together until it was beyond repair. When it finally shattered, all I could do is to accept this rude awakening and prepare for reality. Because this relationship was not real. As much as I tried to hold on to it, it was nothing but a dream.
When you pick up a handful of sand, regardless of how tight you hold it, it always runs through your fingers. As you can see with these pictures, there were words of love written in the sand. They meant so much to me back on the day of their insc<x>ription. But winds blow. Tides ebb and flow. And rain washes away those words that meant so much to me, leaving no trace, and no memory, said insc<x>riptions were even there.
Today as I stand on that same beach I search for that insc<x>ription. No more. No more words of love. No more proof that someone who shared the beach once loved me, or so I thought. After years of wind, tides, and rain, I find myself here again with nothing. Nothing but the memory of the dream.
51-55, MVIP