Last week I dreamt I was in a long-term relationship. My imaginary partner was somebody I know in real life, but not more than at a surface level. I know what she looks like, sounds like and acts like, but not what she aspires to be, what makes her happy or what makes her herself. This was no different in my dream. In this fantasy, she was content, but more importantly, so was I. What I can now acknowledge is that she was just as two dimensional to me in my dream as in real life. She was little more than a face to what my subconsciousness desired at the time; somebody to love and somebody to love me back. In this dream though, I was truly happy, in a way that I’m not sure I have been in quite some time.

 I by no means live a sad life. I am generally quite content with who I am, who my friends are and how I live, but this dream showed me more, it showed me what I lacked. The next morning I woke up deeply sad, as if I had really lived through this relationship and was now incomplete without it, my other half never really existing. This is my problem. Dreams like these aren’t out of the ordinary for me, they’ve become all too common. I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare; I miss them dearly.

It’s an unfair thing, dreaming. In our everyday lives we are able to suppress our innermost thoughts and desires. Our inhibitions build a wall that blockades our regrets, wishes and hopes long enough to at least make it through the day. Dreams tear this barrier down, unleashing the thoughts we would prefer not to think. My dreams are spectacular, each a glimpse of a life where, at my very core, I’m fulfilled. With a nightmare I could at the very least be glad to wake up, but with these dreams, I come out kicking and screaming, desperate to spend just a few seconds more in wonderland. Starting your day with the faint memory of a more beautiful world is a hard thing to do. How can you find the motivation to continue on as normal when you know that at the end of the day, nothing will compare to the life you lead just minutes ago?

These dreams are inherently selfish, how could they not be? It’s unfair of me to want a better life, I recognise that. I am an incredibly fortunate person. I have parents that love me deeply, friends who I can trust and financial security. It’s a life that not everyone is given, and one that has treated me more than fairly, but still. As I drift off to sleep my subconscious disagrees with the obvious. It tells me I need more, that being happy with what I have is foolish. It tells me what I have isn’t enough, that I need more; more attention, more money, better looks. Maybe then I would finally earn that dream relationship.

In my dreams I am invincible. No matter the strength of my enemy, the hopelessness of my situation, or the genius of my adversaries, I always end victorious; I always get the girl. It makes my awake self feel small, each mistake a character flaw, each inconvenience the last straw, never able to live up to the legend that I tell myself each night. 

I dream of things that will never be. Bonds with people that I will never forge, choices I will never make, things I will never say and love from people who will never reciprocate. No matter how happy I am, how hard I work or how contentedly I fall asleep, I doubt I’ll ever stop dreaming of lives that I will never live.