Dream apology, 5:17am

Somewhere between dreaming and becoming aware that it was a dream and observing the connection fade, I try to compose an apology letter to my dream crush in the face of whose beauty I found myself embarrassingly turned into a boundary-violating zombie by commenting on their makeup first and asking for permission to admire it for a moment and then somehow continuing to come closer to reach for some kind of physical contact, maybe a hug, but who even knows, followed by the person turning away and walking off disappointedly, alienated, possibly disgustedly, and leaving me behind with the realization that I have failed, I have removed the basis for genuine human contact and have instead imprinted on them an encounter with someone to avoid, to flee from, and I can’t even argue my way out of that interpretation and redeem myself because that is just what happened, that is what my loss of control has resulted in. How can I write a letter that is true, appropriately self-critical and empathetic and not unnecessarily so self-deprecating that I paint a purely negative picture of myself and leave nothing for them to hold on to that could motivate an interest in getting to know me, a letter that is both an apology and an invitation to connect, while in this moment I am still at a loss as to how the offense could have happened in the first place? How can I ask for forgiveness for something that I don’t know how to avoid? Am I dealing with such explosive material here that the only wise decision would be to save the other person from further disturbing surprises, to stay away from them until my senses have learned not to lose touch with the guiding influence of the sense that clearly I am able to recover after the fact of having drifted into such murky waters of unaccountable action? Maybe the letter I was hoping to be able to write can only be written by a different person, a better person, a more self-integrated version of me, future me. Maybe all I can hope to do at this point without risking a widening, deepening of this tear by which I feel pulled apart is to wait and watch out, wait and see, wait and be, until the time is right, I’m right, and the right me can speak.

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