“He still, all these years later, shines brighter to me than other people. Even after I got over him, I was never able to extinguish the fire completely, as if it’s a pilot light that will remain small and controlled, but very much alive.” –Taylor Jenkins Reid, Maybe in Another Life

I pull myself from a deep sleep. My heart is pounding as I struggle within the first few moments in-between dream state and reality. The chorus of “Sacrifice” by The Expendables rings out into the darkened room, and then *snap* I’m back to my real world, gray sheets crinkled in my palms.

I’d become deeply self-aware over the past two years. From dreams to my reality and ultimately consciousness, I felt deeply connected and mindful of all of my states. The dreams had been coming in waves, and when they did they were consistent for weeks.

I stretch out my legs and reach for the glass of water that still has  the condensation melting around it from when I poured it. It was the summer of 2009, that’s the memory of the dream I’d just had for the fourth night in a row.

And then I am hurtled into nostalgia

I look down at my tanned legs in the Honda and wish my feet didn’t feel so hot and dry from the hours spent in the sand. I’d been here before, and not just in the reoccurring dreams. I reach down for a cell phone that rivals a brick, and then glance out the dirty passenger window, staring at a tall white fence.

That’s when the music starts. 

Where I would have been with a different plan
Like the tide upon the sand
It washed away from me

The guitar rifts shake the small sand colored car, and I smile as the condensation around my cup drips onto the middle of my bare thigh. I’m singing, and not in a conventional way. I’m not ashamed, I’m belting out this song and dancing as wildly as you possibly can in a two door sedan. That’s when I notice the laughter of someone besides me. I can’t ever see this person, although I know exactly who he is. His blurred silhouette also holds a cold cup of sugary ice. This memory, this dream, is so pure and untainted and I can play it back for nights on end. But, I can never bring to focus the other individual.

When I get to the chorus I feel a sense of euphoria, and once the song ends, my counterpart and I are sitting breathless, side by side in his car. I feel as if the speakers are relieved from their burden of blasting the high-octane music. Every time I turn to face him, however, I find myself alone. The music has stopped, the Ipod is nowhere to be found near the hanging AUX cord. And when I reach for the console I pick up both melted cups of Slurpee and leave them outside on the curb.

There’s a certain level of consciousness that allows you to realize the current going on’s in your life. Although playing back the memory feels good, I can’t bring that person back into focus and, I believe, for good reason. Falling under a spell of nostalgia is a beautiful moment, but that’s all it is: a moment. The dream ends, and I am pulled back to reality, where I reach for the glass of water and abandon the idea of the Slurpee cups, melting silently along the hot cement curb.