The dream featured two exes whom were both visiting at my parent’s house but unaware of the other’s presence. I was torn between two but determined to give them equal share, all without letting one know about the other. Elaborate escape plans and lies ensued. Sometimes the fit was right, other times the grass was greener. Even as a dream, it was conflicting.

In real life, they never met. One was superficial and fun; he’d pants me when I would pour water over his head and drag me on rollercoaster rides to hear my sailor curses. He lacked depth. The other used to listen to me, and listen so well that to this day, he knows me better than ninety-percent of my friends. He lacked common goals. Both relationships were one-faceted which is why they ended.

When I woke up, I retained the conflicting feelings of delight at their appearance and anxiety from the secrets and hidden agendas. But something else, too. Maybe embarrassment that my thoughts had drifted toward them, that maybe they would know that my subconscious requested a cameo.

It’s been months since I thought about either during daylight hours. But there they were, in my head, when I was asleep and vulnerable. My dreams are usually forgotten or nonexistent; I wonder why I chose to remember this one.