When You’re Dreaming with an Unbroken Heart

Lumiere Darling

Throughout my life, I’ve encountered a variety of people that usually can be classified as the sensible versus the dreamers. Personally, I have never found any fault in a dream so long as something is done to make (or try to make) that dream or dreams come true. I value individuals that are dreamers, but who also don’t spend all day sitting on their asses. Essentially, I value dreamers that take action.

Because I don’t always have the most stimulating job, I have found plenty of time to dream myself. I know where I want to go in life, what I want to do with my life, and maybe most importantly, who I want to spend my life with. I actually know this. It resonates even in my bones – there’s no question about it. I have found the one for me.

Now I know that this sounds like a typical woman in love. And I will be the first to admit that I have been in love once before, as I’m sure some of you already know. And I loved this man hard, and during that time, I thought that he was the one for me. But I mistook a great deal of history with that person for happiness. Before my current relationship, I thought I knew what love was – and the more you fight for (or with) that great love, the more passion you two have, right? WRONG. I mean, this was a man that decided to ditch me on Valentine’s Day to go out drinking with his buddies (in the morning, mind you), and thought he could simply make up his flaking out on me with a bouquet of flowers (and at this point, we had been together for over a year…and he did not know what my favorite flower was). They are sunflowers, just so all my secret admirers out there know. And roses are a close second. Regardless, neither the flowers nor the relationship lasted.

In my current relationship, I’m more than proud and happy to say we will be hitting two years this summer. And I have zero complaints about him. He balances me out in the ways I need to be balanced, and vice versa. He’s rational while I’m emotional, he makes me brave while I make him save (money), and the two of us together really do make some sort of a perfect union.

So how do I know he’s “the one?” One very simple explanation: I view it as a privilege to love him. I love him more than my promises could ever mean. And because he taught me what real love is, many of my dreams now (and forever will) involve him.

When we first started dating, many of my thoughts about him were physical. From our meet cute, we both had an instant attraction to each other. I would dream about the way he kissed me, the way he held me at night; I would think about the ways in which we would play. Yes, we actually play. I think that is extremely important for any couple. Life doesn’t always have to be so serious, and isn’t it a wonderful thing when you have someone that can laugh alongside you for the ride? I can be silly with him and feel no embarrassment, and I know he feels the same way. We’ve salsa danced around his kitchen, he’s rapped a Nicki Minaj song to me (not a proud moment for either of us), and I’ve performed a pseudo jazzercise session for him (hair in a side ponytail and all). The playing and the giggles – it’s what keeps us functioning as a healthy couple, and what keeps us as individuals sane.

Today, my dreams still consist of those things, but my aspirations for life have also grown as we have throughout the past couple of years. I still dream of those little things with him, but these thoughts are now magnified. Instead of thinking about goofing around in his apartment, I daydream about us goofing around in our apartment. My mind drifts to Sunday mornings in bed where I can roll over and he is there. No more good byes, no more long distance, I get to come home to him each and every night. I think of us strolling through farmer’s markets, taking a cooking or photography class like we’ve always wanted to. So many things – so many thoughts – uncarried out because distance has stopped us. But no more. Not in my dreams. My Wednesday evening is a glass of red wine, with my feet tucked under his legs, that blue plush blanket I bought him covering our bottom halves, as we watch Modern Family. Our apartment is a wonderful dream of mine. A perfect dream of mine.

I dream about our future. Beyond living together. I have fantasized about the way he might propose to me one day, I have cried in the shower thinking about the things I will say to him during our vows. I see him in a beautiful tuxedo, me in a gorgeous white dress (here’s hoping I can afford Vera Wang by the time this rolls around).

I was never the little girl that daydreamed about her wedding or finding the perfect man. I mean, I have always been a hopeful romantic, but growing up, I was a total tom boy. I wore jeans that were a bit too big for me, caps sat backwards on my head, and all I wanted to do was play sports. And while I have maintained my activity level since then, my fashion sense has improved a bit. And although I never thought about the perfect wedding, the colors, the food – I do now. I see us slow dancing under paper lanterns streaming down from a white, satin tent (because obviously we will have an outdoor reception during a summer evening). I see our décor as old books that we both love (because we both have a huge affinity for reading and literature). I hear the lyrics from the song playing during our first dance:

Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it’s enough for me. Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need.

–          Ed Sheeran, Tenerife Sea

I hear the words I whisper to him during our first dance:

I couldn’t help but fall in love with you. I always will be.

I see myself traveling the world with him. Sharing a chocolate croissant in a café in Paris, pulling a scene right out of Lady and the Tramp in Rome, horseback riding in Tuscany, hiking from Fira to Oia in Santorini, experiencing Bohemia in Prague, swimming in the Tenerife Sea, dancing to a zydeco band in New Orleans. I want all of this and more with him. I want to experience the world with him. We could have a home the size of a box, but I would essentially achieve nirvana if he and I could continue our nomadic ways.

I envision us growing old together. Looking back and seeing a life truly fulfilled, with laughs, beauty, travel, and love. We may not have children, but we had and have each other. We make our own family. In our box of an apartment, littered with scrapbooks of our travels and times together, our walls adorned with photographs from all the years we have been in love, and our hands held, my head against his shoulder, and only the sounds of our breathing and the crackling of a fireplace are to be heard. I have lived a beautiful life with the world’s most beautiful person.

Because after all, these aren’t just dreams. These are my dreams.

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