A MidWinter's Night Dream. (If only I could save my OWN life....)

No, I haven’t given up on love.  

Not yet. 

I’m just realizing that the road to true love is paved with some crazy and confusing roadblocks that may or may not be disguised as attractive and sweet talking frogs.  I met one of those “roadblocks” a couple of months ago, and was incredibly flattered by his enthusiastic and constant attention.  

His name was Jack. 

We “met” on the dating website, and enjoyed more than several long and very funny email exchanges.  I am quite a sucker for humor, and was enjoying this "getting to know you" stage.  After a week or so I relented, and gave him my phone number.

We chatted at length five or six evenings in a row and he was quite talkative and very entertaining.  He had a deep raspy voice and laughed easily.  He shared many incredible stories about his life, which included details about his job as a lineman, and a member of a Hazmat team that went into nuke plants when things go terribly awry. Apparently this happens more than we know, and some people are crazy enough to don suits and go where no reasonable person would go.  Or, I’m just incredibly naïve and will believe any cockamamie story someone will throw at me.

Take your pick.

We met finally over a delicious Chinese meal and I was not surprised when I saw that he was quite a big guy.  He claimed to be 6’4” with a few extra pounds, but we all know how that REALLY goes.  (If I can look you in the eye while wearing sneakers, you are NOT 5’10” mister.)   This one really WAS 6'4"...at least.

We enjoyed a nice long dinner filled with stories, followed by drinks with even more stories, and met for lunch the next day.  Again, he entertained me with story after story throughout this whole “getting to know you process” and I listened attentively.  They were very interesting and exciting, but I tried to get a word in; I really did. 

It was during lunch that I realized that this “man’s man” was quite full of stories, and of himself.   I had been waiting for him to ask ME questions; to want to know more about ME.   I tried to interject some thoughts and some of my own history from time to time, but finally realized that he just didn’t seem to care.  And with each conversation and each meeting, I realized more and more that he was a bit too much like another guy I have been trying desperately to divorce.  (I will refrain from listing all those qualities they might have in common, but suffice to say that this gentleman sounded like a man with several grudges, a quick, quick temper and the power to back up any promises he might make to someone who has pissed him off. He also showed me several knife wounds and might have shared a story or two about being arrested in his youth.  Hmmm. )

After that last lunch, I was completely honest with him.   I shared my thoughts about the one-sided conversations, and about the frightening similarities to my ex, and my need for a calm and gentle companion.  I wished him only the best, assured him that his true match was out there somewhere and gave him a hug. 

We waved goodbye, I blocked him on the dating site and we went our own separate ways. 

Until last weekend.

You know about my dreams, right?  I haven’t had any for a while, and have been okay with that, until Saturday night. 

I woke up Sunday morning and sat up in bed.  I had a horrible dream about Jack.  In my dream he was going into a nuke plant in full gear.  I was watching from above, almost as if I was a hovering spirit watching events transpire through an invisible ceiling.  I saw him go in by himself, and moments later watched as an incredible explosion rocked the entire plant. 

He was obliterated.  

The dream shook my up, and I was subdued all morning.  I did laundry, cleaned my room, fought with Bitchy, worked in my classroom and tried to keep my thoughts from going back to the dream.

But I couldn’t let it go.

I still had his phone number, and texted him that evening.  “Hi Jack, it’s me.  Just wanted to be sure all was well with you. Can you just zip me a text to tell me how you’re doing?”

I didn’t hear from him that night, or the next day.  It was the following night when my phone rang.  It was Jack. 

“Hey!” he said happily.  “You wanted to know how I am? I’m kind of okay!  I have a story to share, but I’m okay now. Why?”

“Hi back! Oh, I had a really crazy dream about you.  Did anything happen last weekend by any chance?”  I asked nervously.

“Yep!  I walked out on a job!  First time ever, and I’m sure my career on the Hazmat team is over. Do you have time to talk?”

“Yep,” I said, “Tell me what happened!”

“Well, Saturday night I was called to the nuke plant and was fully dressed and ready to rock and roll. After midnight I went in hot and had a horrible bad feeling. I couldn’t breathe, had a horrible feeling and radioed for evac. They weren’t happy but I basically saved my own ass and got the hell oughta there. First time I ever backed out.  My career is basically over in nuke. I'm done.”

I shook my head and caught my breath.   “Well,” I said, “I think it’s a good thing you left.  I had a horrible dream that night that you blew up.”

“Sweet Jesus,” he said.  “WHAT?  Tell me what happened exactly!”  I shared the dream.

“Holy @*#&.  I will say that I thought about you that night.  Hmmm.  Maybe it was YOU that saved my life?” he laughed.

“No, let’s don’t go there.” I laughed.  “I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad you called.  Now, be well, and take care of yourself.”

We hung up and I sat on the bed. He texted me messages all night sending more details- worried that I might not have believed him, I guess.  He was rocked by the dream.  As was I. 

Someone tell me it was just a crazy, freaky coincidence.