October 8, 2026
I dreamt about him recently.
It was so vivid it was almost terrifying.
I saw his face.
His mannerisms. His expressions. His grimness.
We were back in the apartment I left him in.
I think that was the most horrific part.
Not seeing him, but…
Being back there.
I could feel everything.
My senses were heightened.
My fear. My anxiety. My pain.
It was as if every wound had reopened. As if all the healing I had done had somehow been wiped away.
And I was back.
In the very place that depleted me.
There we were again.
He reached for me physically.
Yet somehow, I still felt unwanted.
Undesired.
Misunderstood.
He leaned in to kiss me.
I pulled away.
There was no more longing.
No more temptation.
The mere thought of him touching me made me feel filthy.
And then…
I woke up.
For a moment, I wondered why he had returned to me there.
Why that apartment?
Why now?
Then I saw something about Venus being in retrograde.
Something about old lovers and unresolved feelings resurfacing.
I don’t know enough to tell you whether Venus had anything to do with my dream.
Maybe it did.
Maybe it didn’t.
But I do know this:
The past came back to me, and even in my sleep, I did not want it anymore.
There was a time when returning to him was the temptation.
This time, returning… was the nightmare.
Maybe that’s healing too.
Maybe healing isn’t never remembering.
Maybe healing is remembering without mistaking the memory for an invitation.
Maybe sometimes the past circles back just long enough for you to realize you no longer belong there.
My mind took me all the way back to that apartment.
Back to his face.
Back to his touch.
Back to the place where I once abandoned myself just to keep him.
And still,
I pulled away.
Even in my sleep.
I chose me.
~ Jane 3:16
Stay Close.
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