Shot to the head

Last night I dreamed about him again, the mysterious guy

Mysterious ‘cause I never really got to know much about him. He never tried to know anything about me either. We just liked to hang out, walk around, discuss a lot… small-talk sometimes, drama-drama-drama every time. But in the dream everything was different:  he was looking for me after a long time of not talking to each other. He kept on sending texts, storing voice mails with strange messages. I seemed shocked, anxious, but mostly shocked.

For years we maintained a weird but so good relation of love-hate. Sometimes loathe. Just a few. There were times when I vanished and he won’t even notice. Then he would vanish and I couldn’t care less. The dream reminded me how much I care about him, how I went to become very fond of him. With some little things I would notice he cared about me too, until two seconds later when he would say something horrible or stupid. That was our system. Terrible, I know. But in the dream everything was different: he cared. He wanted to stay in touch. He wanted us to hang just as a couple of old acquaintances. We grew up, become old and had some get-togethers, brunch and stuff.

Reality was he couldn’t care less about the f word. And I’m not referring to the hurtful and most used f word in the world. In the dream everything got better from where we were… But it was just a dream, a dream I dreamed once in a while. In real life he stayed mysterious, he kept me wondering what was so wrong with being just friends.


Autor: León Alberto

I Was Pandora... And Then I Got Over It.


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