New Year’s Dream

Today feels empty. It wasn’t until meditation that something began to stir in my heart. I have a tendency to analyze and observe what’s happening inside me. Sometimes, I stand beside myself and watch. A wave of pain spreads through me, my whole body tenses up, and I feel like I’m about to explode. An overwhelming urge to run. “Run! Get the hell out of here! Somewhere where there’s nothing left! No memories, no feelings, no existence…”

And then something shifts. I stand beside myself, watching and analyzing. The pain doesn’t concern me. The urge to run is merely an interesting psychological-behavioral phenomenon.

Today feels empty. It started the moment I woke up. Now, as I write this, everything feels normal again. But not as I’d like it to be. I wonder, alongside New Year’s resolutions, are there also New Year’s dreams? Why shouldn’t there be? Resolutions concern myself, and theoretically, I have control over their realization. Dreams also concern myself, but with the difference that, theoretically, I have no control over them.

And so, this morning, a thought came to me: my New Year’s dream would be to stop being afraid.

I woke up. Empty. I look at photos. Empty. As if I’m flipping through an album of some stranger’s life. Not mine. Not my loved ones’. Not the people I care about. Not G. Not me. Empty. Meditation. Slowly, feelings return, creeping into the corners of my mind that were just moments ago like abandoned ruins…

And with them comes fear. This emptiness, this morning sense of nothingness—it’s my self-defense. A part of the mechanism that allows me to survive. Allowed, past tense. Today, it’s just an archaic fear. A state of readiness. I’m prepared for the moment when I’ll be alone again. So perfectly prepared that I wake up alone. I’m not myself, I have no one, so no one can close the door and leave me. No one can say, “I’m leaving.” No one can say, “Get lost.”

And that is my New Year’s Dream: to stop being afraid. To trust so deeply that even when G. doesn’t reach out, has a bad day, doesn’t have time, or doesn’t feel like talking—no matter what happens—I won’t be afraid, because I know she’s there and she won’t disappear. Such a simple dream—to rid myself of the fear that constantly follows me…

I went out for some small errands, and the whole way there, I was convincing myself that my relationship was over. G. would ask me then, “What does that do to you?” It prepares me for the idea that no one will enter the room anymore.

Relief comes with a conversation. She hasn’t left me; she called. And so it goes, day after day…

On my way to the store, I imagined it all in detail. That during the holidays, I’d find my things packed in a suitcase. My shirts, toiletry bag, my light blue cup… I’d open the suitcase, and everything would be neatly packed. Then she called. Peace. I think to myself: “Everything is fine.” Everything is fine.

Then a message: “Where are the cat’s food pouches?” Somewhere, I’d shoved them away while cleaning. The fear is back. I’ve done something wrong. I answer: “Somewhere in the cupboard.” I’m cleaning my room. G. calls. “Where’s that black candle?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Somewhere in the cupboard.”
“Alright!” she hangs up. And suddenly, everything’s not fine anymore. Everything’s wrong.

In my head, a vision has already formed: she’s fed up with me always moving her things, with having to search for her belongings in her own apartment. I’ve already packed the suitcase in my mind… That’s all it takes. I’ve done something wrong, and it’s enough for her to say, “Get out!” And I say it to myself. G. doesn’t have to say anything like that.

It’s 6:00 p.m., she has a guest. Maybe she’ll reach out today. Maybe she won’t. I’m left with the conviction that I’m worthless. And what to do with that? I don’t know. Today, I still don’t know.

New Year’s Dream…

She called…