Sometimes, in the darkness of the night that seems to hold everything still, I can see the field of dreams I once rested my head upon. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does It’s like being 17 again. Not that I really want to be 17 again, because frankly once was enough. But the magic of having a whole field of dreams resting at your feet just waiting for you to find them…that calls me back sometimes.
And sometimes in the darkness of the night so inky black that you cannot see your hand before your face, Beloved’s voice will come from what seems like a million miles away even though he is right there beside me. In those moments, where he seems so far and is so close, he will whisper his fears of not having enough or not being enough. As if in the dark, where no one can see our faces, it becomes okay to admit to these doubts. During the day we dare not speak them for isn’t the truth visible anyway? The inadequacies, the poverty and the deficiencies are all out in the open for the light to hit them if we seek them. But at night, after a day of pretending not to see, after a day of being too busy to remember what was completed and what wasn’t, well then the words he cannot say during the day find form.
And sometimes, in those moments as the sun is just coming up, bathing the room in a ghostly pale light I will ask him to come with me, to explore that field of dreams that once was so bright and so possible. He never answers because I have yet to ask him when he is awake. What if he says yes, what if he discovers that my field of dreams is really just a sad illusion painted over with the hopes of teenage naivety?
It’s in all these moments, before I wake up to bright lights and sparkling blue eyes that I wonder if he would just pack it all in on a whim and head off to wherever a finger lands on a map. I wonder if he will ever get tired of things and go back to his field of dreams. If he realizes that not having enough is more than I could ever ask for and more than I’d ever need.