In Love With A Ghost

-Exploring my dreams-

Last night, I dreamed I had a husband.

I sat on the iron staircase of a film production set and glanced down. To my utter shock, a bulky, silver wedding ring was on my finger. It felt almost like plastic. It certainly was nothing of real value and beauty. It was very unattractive and far too big, but an excited feeling of those old, familiar butterflies washed over me.

“Wow! I’m married. I don’t remember this happening.”

It was the strangest feeling and emotion. I was shocked and thrilled to know I had a wedding ring and the seal of a supposed “oneness” with a lover. It was a deep, visceral security in knowing I had the stamp of foreverness, permanence, and commitment with someone. I couldn’t remember my own wedding. I wasn’t entirely sure who my husband was, but the new identity felt good. Finally, I wouldn’t be such a disappointment to people’s expectations of my love life. Something actually worked out. I didn’t remember having a love life that worked out, but this time, he was here to stay. I sat on the stairs, ironically moving the ugly ring from my right finger to my left. I had every outward attribute of marriage. I had the ring, governmental piece of paper, vow under God, and everything that legally and spiritually yoked two people together. I couldn’t get over how ugly the ring was and couldn’t remember my own wedding, but that was okay. My heart was gratified in knowing I had someone who wouldn’t leave. The fact I had someone I got to refer to as “My husband” to others - not a boyfriend; not an ex - was consoling. Yet, I still felt a nagging void.

“Is this what it feels like to be a wife?”

I was married, but I did not feel very married. Something felt stagnant. I looked around. I realized my husband wasn’t with me. I looked up from the ugly, oversized silver ring, and a hologram of sorts appeared. I could see into his world.

He was in great distress; his face agonized. His family surrounded him. They spoke harsh words of me and beat it over his head that his decision for marriage to a woman like me, was an impulsive, regrettable mistake. It was like watching a livestream narrative of why I wasn’t a worthy enough woman for him.

She is a disappointment and a mistake.

That was the conclusion. My heart felt like it fractured. I looked down at the ring again.

“Is this what it feels like to be married?”

And that’s when it hit me.

I had him legally, but I didn’t have his heart. I had a marriage license, but not a real marriage. I had all the material proof and labels of a husband, but he wasn’t really with me. I was in love with the idea of being loved, but I wasn’t really loved.

I was in love with a ghost. And a ghost was in love with the idea of me.