I DREAMED HIM UP

Priscilla Green

          Most people don't know it, but all that's at some point or another part of our reality has been first conceived in our mind. We fabricate our world, every little piece of it. The barista who prepared your latte this morning: you created her. The client who showed up at the busiest time of your day without an appointment: you created him. The bus driver, the cashier at the grocery store, your best friend, your boss, the strangers you passed by on the street on your way to work: you created them all. You did, or someone else did, it's all the same. Everybody is bringing something into existence all the time, although few are ever consciously aware of that.

          I was consciously aware when I invented him, though. At least for the most part. I dreamed him up so carefully, my most precious work of art, I achieved perfection. His eyes were angel eyes, turquoise like the ocean under a passing storm. When he smiled, his eyes smiled too, and his face became brighter than the sun in a clear sky. I made him up to be principled and kind. I gave him so much virtue. He was a product of my mind and, as such, had a piece of my soul. He was destined to be a masterpiece.

          It was October when I first saw him materialized in front of me. I was at the reception desk when he walked into the office, dressed in black jeans and a dark grey shirt. He smiled at me when our eyes met.

          “Welcome back,” I said. “How was the vacation?”

          “It was good," he responded. "Not long enough.”

          That was the first time he existed.

          He was the creative director at the ad agency where I worked. He'd been working there for three years. And before that, he'd done other things. He was thirty. He had done a lot of things. I composed a portion of his life, but not all of it. Some things are just consequences of others. Like present, past is defined by a chain of events and thoughts.

          The thing about creating, though, is that it's a very sensitive process. You are bringing into reality whatever you think up, even if unintentionally. You lose focus for one second, you allow one wrong thought into your head, and you mess everything up.

          It happened when I got distracted. I had seen him, I had fallen for him, I knew he had fallen for me. I took it all for granted. I thought it'd be safe to forget. And, suddenly, he was just a man I wanted to get to know. I might have then imagined someone else in his life, someone who had come before me.

          I noticed the wedding ring one day when we were talking by the water cooler. I didn't learn he had a daughter until the end of November. He told me she was four, and he showed me a picture. She had his eyes.

          In December, he left the agency.

          We exchanged emails. We hung out. We got to know each other. Then he asked me if I was in love with him. I knew I was, but I said I didn't know.

          “I can't do this,” He told me. "I'm married."

          “I know,” I said. Of course I knew. She was the flaw in his existence. I had put her there by mistake. If only I could tell him that. “Are you in love with her?” I asked. I knew he could not be. He was in love with me.

          “Love fades away with time.” He answered.

          I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I wanted to tell him real love would never weaken, would never die. I wanted to say something, anything, that would make him stay. But nothing I thought of seemed good enough. So I didn't speak.

          "You're too young now," he said, eventually. "But one day you'll understand."

          "I do understand," I responded. "I don't accept it, though."

          He looked into my eyes for just a moment, but I could see he was hurt. "It's not your choice to make," he whispered, before he walked away.

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THE END