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For what is the second time in 2 consecutive days, I dreamed of K___ L___ T___.


She's graduated on to three names now, so if you have no idea what I might be going on about, that observation should begin to provide you with a significant hint as to where she fits into my affairs. Me, as a single man. She was born with that second name, and like I'm saying, I for sure didn't give her the third; it's some lucky bastard's.


Not that I wanted to marry her per se, but she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. We met in college. And I was positively convinced that she liked me, from the open-mouthed gawk she gave me when I saw her for the first time, and from the looks she would continue to throw my way. I'm certainly not that handsome, but why would I be complaining? But see, here's where I have to interrupt and apologize for not being any sort of dashing hero to a romance story. You know, the ones where auspicious beginnings unfold into a story for the ages; a story that intertwines the two of us closer and closer together, until we're inevitably tangled in bed, just before that part in the movie where catastrophe strikes our relationship. No, contrary to the trope, mutual interest between me and a girl usually ends right there, because I'm too shy to take the initiative. I know that sounds lame, but it's really not all that bad. Magically, I do end up managing to date the odd woman or two here and there, in my own haphazard way.


But it's kind of fucked that I still find her so beautiful that when I'm off-guard and asleep, she comes to haunt me. I mean, come on. She's married! What did I do to deserve that? I mean, other than re-Googling her a couple of days ago, because it had been a while, and I was randomly wondering what she was up to. She's still running this education company with her husband, and her best friend. The company website has changed a little since, and I found a new picture of her with her bio. Her head is tilted downward, because she's looking over a student's work beneath her, but you can still see those marvelous cheekbones. I tried not to fill up with regrets, and then tried to see that being with a beautiful woman isn't the end-all be-all. I heaved a sigh, wished all of them the best, and then closed the tab. And I swear I hadn't really thought of her since.


But then came the first dream. And now the one from this morning. It's the first time I've ever dreamed of anything twice in a row. I don't remember what happened in the first dream, but in this latest dream, all I seemed to want is to know her, and to talk to her. And there she was, conversing back with me with ease, like a wise, good friend, who knew me intimately well. It was as if a friendly Greek goddess had appeared to me in a vision, like how Athena might have appeared to Odysseus.


I'm aware that she's probably nothing like what I saw in my dream, and in real life would be a very different person. But I don't know why I can't help but idolize this person from afar. Dreams seem to come from a place of honesty, and no matter what I do or don't do with my brain, I can't seem to help believing in my heart of hearts that this woman is an awesome person I missed out on the chance to know. Tolstoy once said, "It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness." I agree with him totally that beauty and goodness are completely separate things, and that one should work hard to consciously dissociate the two. But how do you help your heart? Broken, for no good reason, when you awake from a dream like the one I had this morning. I got out of bed feeling a little dispirited, but now things are OK. In fact, I'd even say back to normal, especially now that I've had a chance to write about these peculiar dreams. Maybe, just like it happens often enough, you have to ignore your heart. And maybe over time, just like with any animal you have to train using a different language than it speaks, the heart learns.