What does this mean…

…? I mean, she keeps appearing. I don’t mean to make this blog all about “her” but I seem to have no better use for it . Anyways, there she was again last night, invading my dreams. Well, invade is a little harsh. How about pleasantly interrupting. Last night, I was actually in her bedroom. Don’t jump to conclusions — she was sleeping (alone) in her bed, and I was there with a bunch of people who were trying to figure out possible career choices for her. I never saw her face, or her for that matter, nor spoke to her, but I knew it was her, for some reason. She was all huddled sleeping in her bed while all these people were talking about how to plan her life for her. Pretty odd, I admit, but that’s the facts.

She Appeared Again…

I had another dream about Melissa (see “Confessions of a high school crush”) the other night. Dreams are controlled entirely by the subconscious, so no matter how much you want to dream about something, you usually can’t. It’s your subconscious, and the things going on therein, that determine the subjects of our nocturnal dreams. It’s a bridge between the conscious and subconscious, and one of the rare opportunities we get to see what’s going on within our subconscious though.

So, why have I dreamed about a girl I haven’t seen for nearly 25 years twice within a month? Is it my subconscious telling me of deep regrets that it (I) harbor? Is it telling me that there’s something missing from my current life? Is it a clue to things I need to change in my present life? Why does she keep appearing in my dreams? It’s odd really, but in a nice warm fuzzy kind of way. I guess she meant a lot more to me than I ever thought. Oh, I know I thought a lot about her during high school, but maybe the impression that was seared on my subconscious was deeper than I now realize. I don’t know. The dreams are nice, so I hope they don’t stop…

Predictability

Here’s an interesting quote I came by recently.  I don’t have any idea who said it, but I like it.

“The more predictable you are, the easier it is to ignore you.”

Melissa: Confessions of a high school crush

I’m a pretty rational guy. I’m usually very much grounded in reality, which to me means the present.  I try not to live in the past, and am fairly successful doing so, for the most part.

But, on occasion (rare occasion), I find myself thinking (dwelling?) about the past, playing those “if only” games we all do.  So, I wasn’t too surprised to find myself transported back to high school — a time when things were much simpler for me.  This happened last week by way of a dream I had.  It’s been a week and I haven’t been able drag myself back to 2007 yet. So I thought that perhaps writing a few thoughts would be therapeutic and helpful in doing so.

The time period I re-visited last week, for the first time in years (decades?), was high school. That period was definitely much simpler. No mortgage, no kids, no job and annoying coworkers, and very little in the way of expectations, outside of grades.

But in one way it was scary for me, too. You see, I was shy. Very shy. Painfully shy. Oh, my friends probably would deny that, but I knew them well enough so that it was impossible to be shy around them. It was everyone else I worried about. Making new friends was difficult, at best. I usually waited for people to approach me — that made things much easier for me. I had a very difficult time talking to people I didn’t already know well, even if it was just a casual conversation. I just couldn’t do it.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. This problem I had manifested itself in the most cruelest ways, at least for a teenager with raging hormones . I had a crush during high school. That’s singular. I only had one crush. I wasn’t an equal-opportunity crusher. I fell for only one girl.

Her name was Melissa, and she was beautiful. She had the deepest, darkest, most beautifully mysterious eyes I had ever seen, and gorgeous dark hair. We rode the same school bus for six years, I think. At least my memory tells me we rode the same bus together every day during high school. That means we saw each other just about every day. Twice a day, to be exact. That’s a lot of time to be in close proximity to someone you have a crush on when you’re paralyzed by fear to talk to her. That was me. If I had a dollar for every time we crossed paths (literally) and I regretted not saying something to her, I’d be wealthy beyond my dreams. Every time I saw her I would freeze. My mouth stopped working. My brain froze. I blushed. Thinking back on it all now, I wonder if she ever noticed? Probably not.

I don’t know what she thought about me, if she ever thought about me. If anything, she probably thought I was that really strange quiet guy on the bus that kept to himself. Yeah, that’s probably what she thought of me.

Right after high school, a friend of mine had a graduation party at his house. There were a lot of classmates and other people there. Melissa was there. I had been drinking, of course (you could drink beer when you were 18 way then). I think I let it slip that I liked her. I had kept the whole thing a secret from everyone until then. Unfortunately, my friends didn’t help facilitate an introduction that night. Not that it would have mattered at that point, I’m sure. She certainly thought I was a nutcase by then. Anyway, that was the last time I ever saw her.

A few years after high school, while I was in college, I did something really idiotic. She and her family moved out of state after she graduated, but I got her forwarding address from the post office, and sent her a letter. Actually, it wasn’t a letter, but rather the lyrics to a song that reminded me of her (don’t ask, I’m not going to tell you the song. I hope she’s forgotten as well). I did, but didn’t, want her to know who sent it to her, so I didn’t sign my name. Somehow, she did find out that it was me who sent it. Looking back, I’m not sure what I thought that would accomplish. If anything, I’m certain it cemented in her mind that I was nutso.

Time has passed, and I’ve changed. I’m not the cowering shy guy in the corner anymore. I’m not really too hung up on what people think of me. Accept me, reject me, I don’t care. I am who I am. I’m definitely not nutso, that I know. Just a recovered shy-guy.

But I probably wouldn’t want to cross paths with her. They say you can never go back, and I, for one, believe that. I still have fond memories of her from high school at James W. Robinson Secondary School. I’m sure I would freeze up again, at least temporarily, if we ever did cross paths. I don’t expect that to happen, however, but they say it’s a small world…

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t obsess over her. It had been many years since I had even had a conscious thought of her, until my dream the other night. So no, I haven’t built a shrine or altar to her. That dream just resurrected some memories that I have often wished played out differently. Not much I can do now. Maybe she’ll read this, maybe not. Probably not.

I would love the chance, however, to finally say “Hi” after all these years. So, Melissa, if you ever find yourself reading this, here’s a very belated ‘hi’ to you.

Confession over. Back to our regular programming…

Same stuff…different location

New location. Going to get stuff moved from the old place as soon as time permits.