Dreams we lost

I couldn't agree with St. P more. So many fantasies have died or been discarded in the last few years that for a long time I sometimes don't even think of some dreams that I had, a long time ago. Years ago, I lost someone, but so much happened between then and now that I'm not even sure if lost is the right word. I never had him. But it is so much like St. P's fantasy that I was quiet for a few minutes in my head at how the same feelings, communicated in the same words touch people at different points of time, however different the situations are. It was someone I knew from school. He sat next to me for a few months in class three and he was the most noticeable boy among the 6 or 7 year olds. Right after that year, boys and girls were separated and then my family moved to another city and later when I went back and enquired, he was lost, spotted once or twice but with no anecdotes or specific locations behind the recollections. I more than wondered about him and it was strange, I don't remember the teenage years but even in my adult life the interest I felt in him as a six year old had not changed. About fifteen years later I stood on the terrace of a house one afternoon and felt strange, there was something in the air, it kind of felt like the lost person was so near that it was almost physical. I went back, looked him up, the internet had grown by then and I found him, far away from where I was and I wrote. From the time he replied that I was his big love in school to the next two months was my dream. The ultimate fantasy from my six-year old life till then seemed to extend a petal and fold me in its midst. Day and night, across two continents conversations continued everyday. Sometimes it felt schizophrenic, that everything I felt and said was matched from the other side. And then as soon as it started it ended. Like St. P said, because I was me. But I remember one afternoon, I was walking by myself and thinking about work that had to be done, when suddenly, I realised how happy I was and that I wanted nothing more, and nothing, absolutely nothing could rail me because this was what I had been waiting for all along. It has been so long, that I cannot even relive the feeling anymore, but I remember feeling like that. I have never felt like that afterwards. Not even when I knew I was loved. Not even when I knew that people I have been fond of were not going to disappear because I was me. Well, you know what they say, every fantasy claims its price if it is moved beyond fantasy.

And you know what else they say?..Life is strewn with pebbles of fantasies, some of which might blossom into larger than life moments and leave wisdom everytime. So don't worry if one left you bruised because you were you. More will come and do interesting things to your self perception. Do you agree St. P? And I actually don't mean it in a wholly sarcastic way. Sometimes me being me has been a problem, with fantasies and people and both. But it has taught me to love fantasies which I don't want to happen. I can sometimes look at an email or an entry in a diary and dreamily think of the moments the fantasy arrived and it doesn't seem so bad after all. It doesn't matter what happened afterwards. Things were dreamy while they lasted and when I lost them, they had become other things. So I leave my fantasies alone and not have any that might happen. I still seek comfort in people--friends and family--and when super attractive people appear, I might feel pleased but I wouldn't have coffee with them.

I saw Megan in the tram this evening. I sat in a seat that faced towards her and noticed she looked tired. A little sad as well I think. We caught each other's eyes and she half smiled. She looked vulnerable in the late afternoon light and if I had gone up to her and talked she would have. There are moments when you know. The seats next to her and around her were empty. But we didn't talk. And we got off at the same stop, the very last one, where the busstop is--me walking slowly because of a heavy backpack and because I walk slow, she, because she was low. And then both of us took different turns and didn't turn back or linger hesitantly. I don't think she did, I didn't. It would be something, wouldn't it, when one's fantasy lingers back and is hesitant, like a fourteen year old schoolchild in love? But before writing this, the thought of reaching out to Megan did not even cross my mind.