And there she was, in the flesh. Her hair still dyed blonde, but curly again like when I saw her for the first time. She looked tired, cynical. Bored. And a little sad. I recognised these emotions instantly as it was the same way I'd been feeling fo...
The dreams started about six months before the end of our marriage.
On impulse, while on a trip to Las Vegas in early 2010, we'd decided getting an Elvis impersonator to marry us seemed like a good idea. We were both a little drunk at the time, granted, but it wasn't like we hadn't spoken about our future. We'd discussed it a lot since moving in together, but both of us were in agreement that we couldn't be bothered with the fuss of organising a wedding.
Maybe, subconsciously, that's why we'd both been drawn to Vegas as a holiday destination? It seemed like the simplest option. We both liked life to flow as easily as possible - possibly because both our jobs were stressful and messy.
Anyway, at first wedded life had been great, we were love's young dream personified, unable to keep our hands off each other . . . But then the cracks began to form.
It was gradual, subtle, and I can't really pinpoint to this day what the catalyst actually was. Perhaps it was the aforementioned stressful jobs. Maybe our impulsive marriage decision had been made too soon and we really hadn't been ready. Or could it simply have been that we just weren't as compatible as it had once seemed?
All I know is we saw each other less and less and, rather than embracing the time we actually had together, we'd end up snappy and frustrated at each other. We'd never really argued a lot and so weren't used to it; our "fights" mainly consisted of passive-aggressive behaviour, resentment, and occasional silent treatment. Really healthy stuff.
On one occasion, after we'd not spoken for a day and a half over a sniping match about the dishwasher, Kelly had finally sighed and said sadly "I don't understand what's wrong with us."
I'd nodded. "I know. I don't want it to be like this."
"Me neither." She'd walked across the room and curled her arms around me. "I love you. I'm sorry."
"I love you too. I'm sorry too," I'd echoed, relieved. A truce was called. But it was temporary until the next minor argument spiralled into something worse. And so the cycle continued.
The problem was that we didn't know what was wrong, so we couldn't get to the root of the issue and simply fix it. So although we frequently kissed and made up, the original unidentified problem didn't go away. It was still lurking there in the background.
I had a sickening feeling my marriage was fucked, and I couldn't do anything about it.
And then the dreams started.
The first one happened while Kelly was away for a few nights on business. I had went to bed late that particular night. I'd had a project with a strict deadline, meaning I'd been in work until close to midnight. After I'd got home, I'd showered, and had a quick dram before bed in the hopes it might help me sleep.
Once upon a time, in my old life, I could sleep like the dead but in recent years, pretty much since I'd got the Manchester job actually, I'd been plagued by frequent bouts of insomnia. Since I'd had a particularly exhausting day, I was hoping sleep would come easy, but I knew from experience this wasn't always a given. So I was relieved when I drifted off almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
And there she was in my dream. Iona.
It was the last time I saw her, Christmas day 2008. And I was standing by my car, watching her on the other side of the road. It all seemed so real, like I was actually back inside that day, reliving that experience.
With one fundamental difference.
This time, I didn't take Kelly's arm and walk away without a word. Instead, I walked out into the middle of the street. Iona met me there. We faced each other, half a foot apart.
"Ryan," she whispered. Her eyes were full of tears, her face regretful. I reached out a hand to touch her and . . .
A horn flared in ourears. A bus was careering - inexplicably down our residential cul-de-sac - towards us.
I jolted upright, wide awake, a mere millisecond before the point of impact. I was sweating, my heart racing, my brain still struggling to align reality with dreamworld.
As my breathing calmed, I stared into the blurry darkness, and tried to analyse the dream. That day, all those years ago, had been the point where I'd truly moved on from my teenage crush, where I'd locked up that part of my life. I'd reached a metaphorical crossroads, and I'd chosen the road that was going to lead me to a future with Kelly.
I'd made a choice to leave Iona in my past, and not dwell on that past any longer.
So it seemed logical to me that this dream's purpose was to validate my decision. Because any other option would probably have left me . . . Well, feeling like I'd been hit by a bus, probably!
And yes, I was possibly - definitely - taking the dream too literally but it seemed like a clear sign that I had to try and fix whatever was going on with our marriage. I was determined.
But no matter how I tried, that cycle of miscommunication and misunderstandings seemed impossible to escape from. And I could tell something had changed with Kelly too. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was different about her, she just was.
And it turned out the dream about Iona wasn't the one-off sign I thought it was.
Instead the dreams increased in frequency. Sometimes they'd disappear for a few weeks but they always returned, and eventually I was having at least two or three a week.
They varied in theme. Sometimes they rewound back to past memories and replayed them almost completely as I remembered they happened, as they'd been captured on my mum's camcorder and I was watching the VHS recording. Other times, the memories would take a different turn, rewriting history. We kissed at prom. Kissed at the Valentine's party. Kissed in my bedroom.
There was a lot of kissing. Dream Iona was an amazing kisser.
Then there was the dream where I was marrying Kelly in a big lavish ceremony (exactly the type we'd wanted to avoid) and Iona turned up to raise her objections, inexplicably wearing a wedding dress of her own. Another variation occurred where the original Vegas ceremony was taking place but Kelly's face morphed into Iona's before I could say "I do."
Both of those dreams ended before they reached any sort of conclusion.
My subconscious was working overtime and it was messing with the rest of my brain . . . And my heart. It felt like I was actually cheating on Kelly and I hated myself for it. But I had no control over the dreams I was having.
However, I was sleeping better than I had in years. Even if, in my waking hours, I was feeling like an absolute arsehole. Sleeping helped me escape from the sinking ship that my marriage had became.
And then it all finally came to a head one day when I got home to find Kelly sitting waiting for me in the living room.
She looked pale, seemed guilty, and was on the verge of tears. And she couldn't even look me in the eye. "I think we need to talk," she'd whispered.
Shit.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I hope you are enjoying the story! Please like, comment and share if you do.💙
