I Had a Dream the other night about my Destiny

By Eric B Schultz

I had a dream the other night about my destiny

This book goes where few others have dared to go. It thus makes for a truly unusual journey, featuring an ex-military South-African man and the growing complex relationships he experiences within himself, and with his powerful dreams and three identical women, who dominate not only his life, but also his dreams and nightmares. And just as hard as it is to believe that what gradually unfolds, is the truth or based on it, also hard it will be to ever forget that a man in love will do things for love that he would not otherwise do.

One task, the most difficult, was that of conquering the heart of the woman he loves, the one that his soul refers to as his soul mate. The same woman, who inspired the writing of this book, who he, according to his soul, believe it or not, has loved for more than a thousand years, which she has no memory of. Or does she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric B Schultz
• Release date: Sep 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463865668

Book preview

I had a dream the other night about my destiny

A fantasy drama by Eric B Schultz.

I had a dream the other night about my destiny

A fantasy drama by Eric B Schultz.

Copyright © 2018 Eric B Schultz

Published by Eric B Schultz Publishing at Smashwords

First edition 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Eric B Schultz using Reach Publishers’ services,

Edited by Kevin Turner for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

Contents

Foreword

Special Dedication

PART 1

When Will It Rain Pretty Flowers Again?

Opening passage

Chapter 1 Who is the clown stan ding at the crossroads again?

Chapter 2 Too dark begins my sun

Chapter 3 Confessions to a therapist

Chapter 4 I found my thrill on Blueberry Hill

Chapter 5 Going ‘behind’ the windmills of my mind

Chapter 6 The war within me rages on

Chapter 7 Easter weekend discussion with Daniel a few weeks ago

Chapter 8 The Naked Truth is that ... you keep what you kill.

Chapter 9 An unfinished life

Chapter 10 The Final Countdown begins

Chapter 11 Princes of the Universe

Chapter 12 The end of a soldier’s death letter

PART 2

The Real Miracle of Avocado

Opening passage

Chapter 13 The outskirts of Heaven is not too far away, I get closer to it every day

Chapter 14 Still waters run deep

Chapter 15 From the archives of my soul

Chapter 16 Letter to Avocado Blues

Chapter 17 Too big a dream to dream

Chapter 18 It is dark shadows that surround me

Chapter 19 Never a hill too high to climb

Chapter 20 Every miracle begins with a problem

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Wecome to this unusual journey, featuring a less ordinary South-African man and the growing, complex relationships he experiences within himself, and with his dreams, and with three identical looking women whom he loved.

In the process of having to ‘make right’ with all three of them, despite the fact that the first one has passed on, he reaches for the stars and risks it all. What gamble it was, but sometimes there is a price to be paid when searching for the healing that the soul needs. And what an impossible plan it was that constantly played on his mind, driven on by his love for all three of them, with one of them being his long lost daughter. And what beautiful, yet challenging, dreams he kept on dreaming at night, which he needed to fulfil. Yes, a man driven by love will do things that he would not otherwise even think of doing.

One of the women, his second romantic interest, looked at him as if he was raving mad, but he did not blame her really. After all, what he was about to propose could be viewed as even more outrageous than his inconsistent behaviour of late. That goes for his poor timing as well, but after the failed phone calls to her and the huge ‘flowers’ scene in her office, he simply had to speak with her face to face, even though he mostly felt like a trapped panther in her glowing presence. However, this time there was a sudden, strong stirring deep inside him, a primal urge to capture, claim and explain. He stood in her doorway with his heart hammering with adrenaline and he ranged towards her with the only defence that he had on him: ‘the truth.’ Yes, finally, the absolute truth. He watched the glide of her throat as she swallowed, and then heat must have surged into her veins when she, without hesitation, demanded that he ‘get out’ of her office without him barely having said a word. Her jaw moved slightly as he stood frozen to a standstill. Her eyes flashed when she again insisted that he ‘get out.’ He felt as if she had slapped him across the face several times, which he realised he no doubt deserved, but it did not stop tears from wanting to gather in the corners of his eyes. He was numb. She was, for some reason, attractive as well, when she was angry, but has he not violated too many of his own hard-earned rules with her? Even the guidance provided by his regular dreams? What kind of a man am I? he asked himself. One who was driven by a need to control events and who kept on going until he really hurt her? Until he just went too far. This, despite what he saw when he looked her in the eye. Yes, he, amongst a few other things, saw that he was the rock that she wanted to cling to in the storm ... The world around him thinks that he must have lost his mind. He thinks so as well, at times. But could he really ignore the needs of his soul, being the man he is, and how could he ignore what he saw in her eyes? And what about turning a blind eye to his already bleeding heart and the guiding power of his dreams? And what about what continuously keeps coming from his soul?That she is the one whom he has loved for more than a thousand years? You be the judge of that, but the days that he remained silent about things that really matter to him have finally ended with the writing of this book. Also, by now doing what needs to be done, which means that it is time to get his hands ‘dirty’ again in order to become ‘clean,’ so to speak, because between him and all three women stood a ruthless criminal, who finally needs to be dealt with once and for all.

So, this is how the telling of my truth about my three ‘girls’ and me begins. And whilst rumours have the ability to travel around the world with terrible haste, my truth is only just getting ready to put on its shoes. And when my truth finally catches up, don’t be surprised if you find that the pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple. Yet, it is said that there is only one truth. Although, as far as I am concerned, there are two truths; the truth and the absolute truth.

Special Dedication

Oh, heart of mine ... you that saved us from our childhood torment, with your young, fearless fury. You, who also miraculously drew my troubled soul from the dark pits of grief with your undying love and intense need for her. I am so sorry that I seem unable to embrace the miracle of true love again. Yet, I do realise, of course, that you never can tell, with both the unpredictable you and her around. Not to mention the awesome power that lies within the mysterious domain of true love.

Special Dedication

Oh, heart of mine ... you that saved us from our childhood torment, with your young, fearless fury. You, who also miraculously drew my troubled soul from the dark pits of grief with your undying love and intense need for her. I am so sorry that I seem unable to embrace the miracle of true love again. Yet, I do realise, of course, that you never can tell, with both the unpredictable you and her around. Not to mention the awesome power that lies within the mysterious domain of true love.

PART 1

When Will It Rain Pretty Flowers Again?

Opening passage

I am a dreamer and so I dreamt a few dreams, the same as the bird that sings, because the bird had a few songs to sing. I smiled at her, I cried for her and so I showed her my heart. I showed her my heart, because I have a heart. Yes, I showed her the best part of me, and if what was in my heart was not good enough for her, then I was not good enough for her. Yet, it could not have been as simple as that. Come to think of it, nothing worthwhile in life is simple. Not for me, at least, and certainly not with her around. And as I say this my heart starts singing what became his most favourite Elvis Presley love song ...

Make the world go away. Get it off my shoulders. Say the things that we used to say and make the world go away. Do you remember when you loved me, before the world took you away? And if you do, then forgive me and make the world go away.

This is now, but in my mind’s eye, I can still see way back then, when behind a scatter of birds in Southern Angola, I see her, my first love, walking away from me, disappearing into the bushes with what could have been a final wave of the hand. ‘There goes my everything.’ That is what I silently said to myself back then. That is how it felt to me, within all of me. I remember it so well. And now another painful departure has happened again. Is this what it feels like in hell’s horrible kingdom? Because my heart ... because my heart simply refuses to let go.

Chapter 1

Who is the clown standing at the crossroads again?

The first time I saw her walking in the passage past my office, my second love, my second ‘Avocado,’ I thought that must be what a real angel looks like. Such sweetness ... such grace she possesses. Such beauty shined not even in Venus’s face. Yes, she looked like an angel, walked like an angel, talked like an angel, but I can never believe what the world kept telling me about her. No, she could never be a devil in disguise. That is not who she was, and still is, to me, despite everything that happened. However, they are probably right about me. That I, for one, have become too much of a dreamer. But just how are you ‘boring’ realists out there ever going to have any hope in life, if it was not for dreamers like me? We all need to have hope, don’t we? And you can’t always have your feet firmly on the ground, you know. Sometimes you need to have your head floating somewhat in the air. I told her this, right in the very beginning, that I would just love to ‘count the stars’ with her, and right now I am looking at those same twinkling stars up there, hanging in the clear night sky, and thinking to myself just how incredibly beautiful they are. That is part of what makes us human, I think, because we humans look at the stars. But what if they actually looked back at us? Ever thought about that? Yes, I do think about that. And I am not ashamed for one minute to admit that I do believe that they look back at us mere mortals here. And what is it, I ask, that makes them smile and dance with joy when they look down upon us? When they too, tearfully witness all the injustices that take place amongst us here? Yes, when they observe all the wrongs and ugly things that happen here between us every day, every hour, every single minute? Is it not the rare occurrences of justice that also exist here that joyfully excite them? That gives them hope? Yes, the magnificent beauty of sweet justice occasionally happening or at last prevailing, even though it only occurs in small pockets here and there. Not to forget, of course, the rare beauty of true love that can exist here. Yes, the magnificent sweet beauty of true love. It does exist, does it not? On the other hand, is this clown just dreaming again? Anyway, still I hope that the stars will take good care of my three ‘Avocados.’ Is it not so, that the hours when hearts and minds are absorbed by the beauty of sweet fairness and that of true love ... that these actually are the only hours that we really live? To me, these hours seem to be the only hours that are not wasted. These hours absorb me and fill me with hope. Yes, this could be real life and all else may just be mere endurance. My ‘hours’ witnessing fairness and those few hours spent with true love were so good, so rich in delight, and so worthwhile, I will forever remain utterly grateful that I had them. And to now express my hope by a few lonely-looking stars out there that seem to be floating needlessly in the dark, like I just now did ... certainly, there is nothing in this dreamy expression of mine that sounds real, but then again, because I have just done it, I ask, if it is not something that actually exists? Once or twice, my Avocados must also have been searching the same peaceful-looking sky for answers, by asking those same stars out there for reasons why I made them smile, but also cry. And what about that deeply caring way that they looked at me at times? Hell, to me it was so perfectly fine. It will never leave my mind. Yes, I did not at all mind. I still think of that all the time and with a loving smile, but yes, I also still get all terribly ‘mixed up’ inside ...

So where do I now wander off from here? With my broken bag of ‘unrealistic’ dreams, now carried over the tired shoulder of a dreamer? I hopelessly ask, with my face looking right into the chilly headwind. As if someone out here was actually listening to my moaning and could really be interested in the mumblings and grumblings of someone who the world probably regards as a complete and utter fool. And how does it really feel, I simply have to ask, under the skin of someone like me, who this time did what I thought was the right thing to do, in terms of what true love and fairness really means to me, but with me at the same time also feeling that what I did, could also have been so wrong? So bloody wrong? And also ... how does it really feel, after finally being at peace in heaven on earth again for those brief precious moments when I was with them, and now her, my precious Number Two, particularly in the beginning with her, and now with me finally coming down to hell on earth? Shall I say fast or shall I say slowly? Nevertheless, definitely hard. And so, I again find myself, yes, once more I find myself standing still, feeling completely alone, here at the empty crossroads of my life, while the whole world passes by without me, with me also feeling misunderstood, and having so many untied loose ends and unanswered questions about my life. Oh, Life, how your amazing ‘ups’ and terrible ‘downs’ never cease to amaze me ... So, Hello, I have to say again to my dear old friend, the empty crossroads. Yes, indeed it’s me again. Sorry for the miserable state I am in. I need a new beginning again. For heaven’s sake, tell me quickly, tell me now ... which turn do I take? Because I don’t ever want to make the same mistake. Yes, there will be no more ‘rock ‘n roll’ coming from my heart. No more joy that once poured in abundance from the unstoppable lyrics and musical tunes that used to live-in and flow from my heart? Oh, where now is my troubled soul? I have no more tears left to cry and I am not ready to die. Yes, you read me right, I did say die. I have nothing to show. It is only the cold winds that I feel on my skin and hear blow and then there is the sorrow growing like cancer in my bones, eating at my veins, and the repeated visions of her angry words thrown straight at my face, which is now running amok, causing all sorts of havoc in my brain; again and again ... She is in my head ... in my head ... in my head ... head ... head. Yes, I am standing outside in the wind, having reached my old friend, the empty crossroads, again.

Emotional pain could indeed be a feeling that looks like the colourfully painted face of a clown, now in the discomfort of trying to perform delightfully underneath the friendly mask, without having a single joke or smile ... or the feeling felt by a born-to-be-believer now suddenly faithless, where faith once was so plentiful, or like the feeling felt by a lonely lost soul wandering blindly under a dark moon, completely lost. Is it like this in hell’s horrible kingdom, walking alone at the hour when my heart is still trembling with tenderness? Lips that could kiss now form useless prayers, blowing in the wind. Going nowhere, it feels. My voice is dry, my whisper as quiet as the wind blowing in dry grass. Indeed, I am an empty man, again finding myself without the best part of me. Was this experience with her, my Number Two, another one of those complicated tests, purposely designed for my final failure? A test again drafted and cunningly compiled by the mysterious unseen forces that remain unknown to my human eyes, but hopefully not unknown for too long? Isn’t every significant thing that happens supposed to have a reason? And if I have passed this test, which I felt I did at some stage, measured against my questionable standards ... why then does it feel that I have failed at the things in my life that really matter, by so miserably failing those that were really close to me ... my three girls? My three Avocados. I love this one too, you know. I completely love her, too completely, I guess. Moreover, do I know what it was that has destroyed the closeness between us? Between her and me, but also between them and me. Some could think perhaps that the love that existed from my side was too little, but maybe it was just too much. Strangely, both these expressions, the ‘too little’ and the ‘too much,’ could have the same clown face that is mine. The same guilty face of the man, who one day has to squarely face his own mirror with honest eyes, but still can’t ... due to old and new reasons known only to him. Reasons that appear to have a life of their own. Reasons that regularly visit him and sometimes disturb the quietness of his dark room when the nightmares come to haunt him. How could I have darkened this one’s beautiful eyes that much, and bring down the blinds upon her soul, scoop out the warmth from her inner centre, which has left me with dark despair, fully knowing that this was my last and final chance. At what? ... a ‘normal’ life, I ask? And I ask again, especially to those fortunate minds in touch with their souls and are able and willing to listen with an open heart. Do you know why true love is destroyed? You may think that in my case, the love that existed between us must have been too little, but I will tell any wise mortal this ... boy, what I felt was too pimping much. It was just pimping. Yes, just pimping too much ... Now that it is all over between us, for ‘my girl,’ it should also be over for silly old me. Yes, that is what she and her world have chosen to call me: ‘silly.’ Nevertheless, part of my heart is still there where Number Two left me standing stone cold, because for now, hopefully for only just a little while longer, my heart has nowhere to go to from there. Going backwards to face her and her cold, loveless words again, surely, it can’t be a wise option. Surely, my mind unwillingly travels there often enough, and even stays over to profusely ponder on all my questions still hanging in the air over there. You can’t turn back the tide of time, for once the waters of life have passed under the bridge, surely they have passed? You don’t get to do any ‘do-overs’ in life, not in my life at least. That, unfortunately, is how it works in this hard place. I of all people, should know this well. What is done is done. The only way is to go forward, and that means disappearing from here ... into the cold nothingness for now, without the eyes looking either left or right. Or is there a way going up from here? I doubt. Or even a way going down from here? I doubt. Not yet. So, why the painful hesitation now, for someone who seemed to be relatively certain at one stage about how things should be for her and me? Quite an awkward feeling, isn’t it, Mr. Walker? This I now ask myself with a disbelieving shake of the head, with me, sometimes still, being so ‘larger than life,’ despite my obvious ongoing imperfections. There was a time, I know, that my heart tried to make her heart see the real me. Yes, I was driven by my heart to hold her hand and whisper the sweetest words of love into her ear, yet in my mind I could not ever let her ‘give in’ to someone like me. Oh, did it really have to come to this? So, is this where I just throw my bag of broken dreams, as if it is a bag of silly beans, over the weary shoulder, and like wet driftwood, just move on with this life as if nothing significant has happened to me and to her? As if this is the end of us, and this is where the future starts for me, without her next to me? Oh, how hard this life is. Is that what my fate now expects from me, and dare I ask, Again? Yes, again. Is this my reward, with my heart having been so gentle and kind to her, and for being the way that I am, and for loving her the way that I loved her? Although mostly from a safe distance, I must say. Yes, mostly from a distance. It wasn’t just nothing, I tell you. She was telling a lie, there at the confusing ‘public ‘end of us, when she said that she feels nothing for me and for us. What was between us two wasn’t just a load of nonsense either. This I tell you. This I assure you. And if it was nonsense, then it was our nonsense and not just nothing. Surely, I can’t now be writing and ‘bleeding’ about ... just nothing! People have called me an animal before you know, although long ago, and I am not an animal. This I assure you. I am not an animal. I am a human being. I also have feelings like anybody else, and I am now standing at the crossroads again, at this dark and empty bloody place. A place of no mercy and no compassion. Not over ‘just nothing.’ I am not mad. It cannot be nothing, if she, well, if she was everything. If she really means everything to me. Just listen to the voice of my heart ...

Nothing means nothing, Babe. And that is not true. That is not how it was between me and you. No matter for how long you want to deny the truth. Don’t you know that I was crazy over you. How could you now say that there was nothing between us two? How can you now say there is nothing to tell? Could you not see the love shining through? I know I wasn`t like a brother, your big brother, and did not act like that too. And I know I have never been your lover, your sexy lover, but that don’t mean I did not care about you. Baby, every little thing that you do, made me crazy over you. How can you now say that there was nothing, nothing between us two? Nothing means nothing, Baby and that’s not true. That’s not how it was between me and you. Don’t you know that I was crazy over you?

Is it my fate, my just reward, I ask again? That we be compared with nothing and that I must forever be content with discontent? And is my ‘strange’ behaviour towards her, particularly there at the end, forever to be regarded by her and her world as sheer unwanted audacity or the freakish display of a bloody clown? However, was it not the so-called ‘crazy’ one, who was the only one in the ‘house of evil rumours’ with a truly honest intent? So here I again stand, by my loyal friend, the crossroads. And what you see, yes, it’s just me, that fool again. Me again, still deliberating with my conscience and having concerns about the condition of my aching heart. And yes, I once had a few dreams to believe in, yet strange as it may seem, I still dream these dreams, yet in the daytime, she is nowhere to be seen. My heart... do you have something to say?

So, see through my eyes, Babe, see through my heart and soul. See that I once had a dream. That’s just about all ... And dreaming dreams alone is lonely and blue, unless someone else dreams those dreams too. Dreaming dreams are made for two. Baby, did you not dream those dreams too?

People generally do seem to have a problem with honesty. Me too, I am sorry to say. Particularly if it is honesty in its absolute form, But I will let you be the judge of the validity of that strong statement. And it is not because I trust you or anybody else, or even that I hope for a reasonable verdict regarding my indifferent conduct towards her, in particular, and even her ‘see-saw’ conduct towards me, once everything is said and done. It is because, right now, I simply don’t want to care anymore about anything. That is genuinely how I now feel. That’s where the trouble started for me, as I mentioned earlier, by caring too damn much for her, and also by trusting those who I knew could not be trusted, but I probably hoped that I could. Yet, we all need trouble of some kind, as you know, because experiencing trouble is supposed to build character. Well, so the experts say. I suppose if you want the rainbow, then you first need to handle the rain, and I should by now have developed sufficient ‘character,’ one would think, to claim the beautiful rainbow as mine. Yet, my imperfections still stand out like a sore finger, with me now still standing in the rain, but if I am now to be judged by ‘worldly’ standards, I would regard it as an insult. Surely, I have come too far for that? For, if I had to live by someone else’s standards, it would mean that I am living someone else’s life, and not my own, be it as imperfect as it is, but at least, it’s mine. Or is it really mine? What a big question indeed. Did someone not sing a song, a long time ago ... ‘that there is calm before the storm, but I did not know. I did not know that there is such a bad moon arising. I did not know that there is so much trouble on the way.’ Yes, that is how the familiar song performed by Clearance Freewater Revival goes. Avocado Two wrote to me once, that a skipper of a boat, who has endured stormy waters, is a much better skipper for surviving the challenging experiences of bad times, and although I would like to believe that I am now somehow stronger emotionally or even a better person, and also that things generally happen for the best in the end, I just can’t help wondering why I keep feeling that I lost much more than I gained? Yet, I know from her last words to me that she gained far less than me from the unforgettable ‘experience’ of us. Saying goodbye never comes easy to me, and soon you will get to understand why. That is if you can endure my too many lines. Assuming that I have the guts and ability to tell our story as it is ... as it was. And this time, I find it even harder leaving without properly saying goodbye. Without properly explaining myself and for leaving such a terrible mess behind, and it won’t be for the first time in my life that this happens either. Some guys just never learn. Some dreamers never stop dreaming. Some children never stop longing for their parents’ love. Some sons and daughters never stop questioning their purpose in life. Some soldiers never stop bleeding from their invisible wounds. Some hearts never recover ...

Is there a shortcut to Heaven or some place in between, a half- way house, a pillow to rest my head or an Angel to look over me? Is there a road leading to someone, who will love me and share my dreams? But I will settle. Yes, I will settle for a road going nowhere, as long as I don’t go back there.

Do I think that it is due to my lack of acceptance of the current undesirable situation, that I am now struggling to cope mentally and emotionally? With me not wanting to accept that what is lost, is forever lost? Part of me should doubt the validity of this thinking, for have I not seen worse ‘storms’ come and go before? Much darker ones than this? Although this particular one, the current dark cloud that still hangs over me now, is as real as it comes. Somehow it feels similar to mourning the death of a loved one, or the painful failure to comprehend the strange manner by which such a great ‘love’ got the big boot, which is still burning on my backside. Something for her world to remember and laugh at. For my heart, it’s like the final and fatal right hook to the jaw, that ‘love’ never saw coming at him, and to my mind, it’s like a phase that ‘love’ is going through, that will have to pass just like scattered leaves making mysterious circles in the mindless wind. Nothing seems to last forever in this unforgiving place. Even true love has its limitations, it seems, and it is this fact that my heart finds so hard to accept, because I do still believe in true love, despite everything that has happened to me. Yes, I still do. All the stars up above, yes, all of them, are witnesses to this undying belief of mine, and one day they will be called to testify to this absolute truth, and they will sing and dance with joy. You will see. Yes, you will see. Although I need to add that I don’t quite understand true love, despite believing in it ... My rollercoaster ride probably started when she, to my pleasant surprise, and in such a sincere and innocent manner, said ... ‘I love you.’

‘Do you realise what you just said?,’ I managed to ask her, not believing that I heard it correctly the first time, and then she smilingly replied,

‘Yes, I know what I said,’ and then she confidently repeated those sacred words again ... ‘I love you,’ almost as if she knew that I wanted to hear the sound of her whispering those magic words to me again. Almost as if she could have meant it. I thought she did. My heart certainly felt it. This was where the ‘old’ me just died off for a beautiful moment, and ‘real’ life started again for me, and with it also ‘hope’ coming alive. Never believing it would later just go away and die, I need to add. Am I now expected to believe and just accept the painful premature ‘death’ of this love? When this is where the injured, middle-aged soldier finally stopped bleeding and my troubled soul started healing? This is the beautiful part, where not only my feet, but also my heart, just automatically lifted off the earth, and it completely felt as if I, on an invisible cloud, floated lightly above the ground. That was before I witnessed my faithful heart come crashing down to the harsh reality of this world. But have I not also touched a piece of Heaven for a while, being up there between the stars? Don’t I now know what Heaven must feel like? She must be praised that the time can stop, just as it did during the moments when I was with her, when such glory was felt in the air as the room filled with her magnificent glow. My uncontrolled staring at her presence simply sucked up her deep beauty and filled my heart’s desire. I remember it feeling like we were the only two people that existed on this earth, sharing the beat of one strong pulse. Yes, time was far away and somewhere else, it must have gone when she looked at me in ‘that’ way. When she was still here, and life will no longer be what it then was for me. Is a soldier’s salute in her honour not in order? Yes, despite everything ... despite the good, the bad, and the ugly. However, what happened to her so-called love for me? Its magic must have stayed on our cloud of love and drifted away to Heaven. Its wonder, its power ... it slipped away from me, and no matter how hard my heart reached out for it with his songs, and both my hands frantically grabbed at the empty air love left behind, and my longing arms stretched out to reel in its magic touch, I just drove it further and further away from me. Heaven, yes, as I look up to Heaven, I sometimes still believe that somewhere far, somewhere in the vastness between the stars, maybe the wonder of her love for me has somehow survived. Maybe it is lying helplessly in the hollow valley of dying stars, in a dark, cold place, where all lost loves are. Can it be there and still be alive? Maybe it is just patiently waiting there for ‘my girl’ to believe in the magic of true love, before it strengthens and rises, to finally come home to my loving arms again. Thoughts like these regularly invade my wandering mind, whilst in my heart the chill of death steadily grows. And if this true love was born to die, I think only this of it ... that there is a corner in a foreign field of flowers, where I would rather let it come to rest in peace, buried under a different heaven, made of the most beautiful flowers that wither only to blossom again. My love, how lonely you have made me ... However, talking about flowers makes me think of something that I saw and wrote down on paper today, while the day ran by. It is just some words that I found special and meaningful. Doing this is an old habit of mine. It was about how quickly flowers withered away, and it reminded me of the short time that I had with my girls:

Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time was spent here on earth. And I will follow you straight, without complaints or grief. If only my scent was as good as yours was, then I care not if my life is as short as yours.’

Somehow, I have always wanted to read the war novel, Heartbreak Ridge, but I have never found the time to. Or was it really because I did not want to go back there to my soldiering days? Yet the familiar title still appeals to me in a strange way. And by the way, there is something else that I need to say, and this is that I don’t drink whisky, yet I now have a full, shining bottle boldly staring directly at me as I hear the uneven waves breaking hard against the shore, in the darkish background. Have to silence my never-sleeping conscience, you know. Somehow. I simply have to try. Also, I just hate taking any pills, let alone sleeping tablets. It’s just not my scene, yet tonight I have a bottle of sleeping tablets at my bedside. Yes, lately I have not been sleeping all that well, while I am doing some time here at a lonely place that almost perfectly fits the description of Elvis’s Heartbreak Hotel.

Yes, I have been so lonely, Baby, so lonely ... I could die.

There was a time that I wanted to tell her who I am. Something that my dreams insisted I do. So why did I not tell her more about me? It is probably because she allowed me, a complete outsider, to feel so at home with her right in the very beginning, without her knowing another significant part of me. Probably the biggest part of me, but I never got to tell her, you know, what I so desperately needed her to know about me at the time when it mattered so much to me? Shall I say that the time just never was right? Also, true it must be that I never had the guts, I suppose, to be rejected by her for being who I am. Strange it is for a man once so admired by the world for his sheer determination and blind bravery, although this ruthlessness transpired years ago, and under dangerous and very different circumstances. I also never got to tell her that I lost the first Avocado of my life many years ago, because I fearlessly displayed the strength of an invincible mountain lion and had the blind courage of a Samurai warrior to simply, against all odds, fearlessly go forth and proceed, facing the mighty storm head on. To go and take what my young heart so desperately needed, and to give her what she wanted with all of what she had burning inside of her. And now, I lost the special affections of her, my second Avocado, because I was afraid to again display that same brute courage this time round, instead of simply, blindly following the burning desire in my heart again. Hell, where were the simple times, when I had in me what is called the ‘eye of the tiger’? When I would even walk through a fire and my insides would victoriously ‘roar like that of a lion’? However, even a dumb mule does not push at the same stone twice, it is said. Neither does the scorched fly, which once has escaped the flame, come to play with fire again. No, it rather flies aloof in fear of more mishap. But I actually may have done again exactly what I did so many years ago, if I knew then that her love for me was totally ‘complete.’ Not because it was as if I demanded it, or that I was in a position to demand it from her, but because my desperate situation required it. Yes, it required something equally as strong as what was inside my heart for her. And that is how the words of a hesitant and defeated man, then already, deliberately found its way into this important song of mine that I wrote to her. Words, burning in my head, and its full meaning, which must have been impossible for her and even for my own heart to comprehend at the time. Sad words which predicted our current outcome well in advance of its mighty fall.

I prefer dreaming, because in my dreams you are mine. I prefer dreaming, because in my dreams I get to hold you and you get to hold me back. I prefer dreaming, because in my dreams I am not another fish in the sea. You can’t discard and forget about me ... in my dreams. I prefer dreaming. You know that, don’t you? ... I prefer dreaming, because when I call you, you run to me. You always run to me ... in my dreams. So I prefer dreaming, because in my dreams there are no tears in our eyes. There is no reason to cry ... in my dreams. I don’t wanna play it real no more. I have seen real hurt before. So I prefer dreaming, because I want to be with you and you want to be with me ... in my dreams.

To me, the song meant that I knew ‘it’ was over for us some time ago, before writing this song. Not too long after true love’s joyful beginning, when I, to my utmost disappointment, realised that her feelings for me must have been ‘conditional’ of nature, and maybe also because it was subject to what she referred to as a ‘checklist.’ A very worldly checklist, unfortunately, for my heart in particular, who was the one who asked no questions about her. Yes, nothing, her checklist included, could stop my heart’s undying desire for her love. And the song’s further meaning is that I kept on, ‘just dreaming,’ because that is how far fate would allow it to go under these, and other unique circumstances that were mostly coupled to what was going on with me, and that had little to do with her. However, it never meant that I will love her any less, or even that I blamed her for loving me less, or shall I now rather say that I did not blame her for not loving me at all? That last bit, the sensitive part, about her not loving me, was very hard for me to say. Even today, as I write it, but I also need to write, and let you in on a real dream, which was part of a series of dreams that I had about a man who fell in love with an angel at an oasis.

(Voice in my dream) A man, who met and spent time with an angel, after he stumbled upon an oasis, was getting ready to leave, after having been regarded by the angel as being a fool of a man. Yet, he was only a man with innocent dreams. Dreams of a great love ... so great that even he thought it too splendid to be for him. Yet, he uncontrollably kept on dreaming these unstoppable dreams, not knowing what else it would reveal. ‘What a fool!’ he seemed forever to be, said she again of him, when he through the words of a special song wrote to her that he preferred dreaming about her. But that is only one of the disturbing statements that she will make of him.

Was she really an angel, who came to my broken window? Was my heart really such a fool to let her in? This I now ask myself, but also directly after having this dream. And it is also with this question in mind, that I sought help from a nearby therapist ...

Besides my happy and sad experiences with ‘Number One,’ I also never got to tell her that there once was a third Avocado, my daughter, and that I have somehow also managed to lose her in the troubled mix of things at a very confusing time of my life. What a winner I once was, in the blinded eyes of an uncaring world, and sometimes I still am, but what a complete loser I turned out to be when it came to matters of the heart. Oh, my faithful heart, how can a loser like me ever win? My life ... is it about how the rolling dice of love jumps and falls? My life ... do I have any say in it at all? And if I could call the shots, I would probably also fail at that. I probably would blow it all, as I did three times before. Is it fate’s way of fooling with me, or is it the choices that I made that will forever haunt me ... forever making such a fool of me? It was not a mask over my double face that my heart was wearing with this one, you know ... when she so easily exposed me for whom I really could and wanted to be. Yet, as it eventually turned out, I ‘unselfishly’ had to set the young zigzag-flying butterfly free from caring for me, long before the pretty butterfly suddenly developed the painful sting of a heart-killer bee ... Oh, Destiny, there has always been this thing between you and me. Is it not Mr. Destiny? You have always been steps ahead of me. Oh, I have been hitting hard at sunshine and kicking at the rain. But it is always in vain. I have never been ahead of you and your game. It is always the same. I have screamed and shouted at the mirror in shame, and hit my head against the wall repeatedly. However, you always come. Yes, you come to remind me, of my destiny and me. And when I sense that gone is the pain ... destiny, you appear again and again. The cards that we are dealt, are the cards we got ... Oh, when will it rain pretty flowers again? When will it rain pretty flowers again?

With ‘Number Two,’ I was mostly led, and probably misled, by the conflicting voices within me, which started an endless internal war between my heart’s longing for her true love, versus what I thought was meant to be. What simply had to be, according to me, and what I thought was my destiny. Therefore, eventually I had to do what I thought was the right thing to do ... for her, mostly. Not that my conscience and my heart agreed with me on this. At times, I was like a committed soldier in battle, who did not want to give in to the passion that ruled in his heart again ... I was to blame, with her, you know, and not my innocent heart ... not my conscience either. It is always the same. Nothing has changed. However, shame on me for hurting her. What can I say, what can I do? Yesterday I was blind, but now I see. It was over for her, when it still feels like it is never going to be over for me, but there will be no more flowers from my heart to her ... no more flowers to make her feel blue. And hopefully there will be no more tears left for me to cry ... no more lying awake the whole night through. But shame also on her, for hurting me, for once upon a time saying and showing that she cared, when it could not have been the truth. But there will be no more flowers from my heart to her. Only the final words of this book, telling the world that I still love her ...

I saw her pride and beauty again for the last time, and this time it was not like any of the other times. This time was the last time. Oh, how hard it is to live this life. Oh, when will it rain pretty flowers again? Tender feelings, tender feelings ... yes, I still have tender feelings for her and thoughts about her. Even though you already may, or soon will say, and justifiably so, that I have little or no reason to have such feelings. Yet for sure, it is so that I still have tender feelings for her. In addition, seeing her with him ... yes, I still felt like the outsider looking in. Now, even more so ... I once, for moments, thought that she was my Avocado Valentine, but I hope life treats her just fine. To them there is a new beginning; so bright and beautiful. What I saw between them was the magic of hope in action. What I felt in the air around them was two young hearts singing with joy. What’s with the new hairstyle and the large, awkward sunglasses, my girl? And where is that special ‘glow’ that you had, when you were with me? Those were some of the questions on my mind, but I could not dare greet her. Yes, I could not greet her, while he is there with my Avocado. I did not know how much more of that ‘happiness’ I can take. I could see that his whole life is there with him. That he feels like a king sitting in ‘my’ chair, but yes, I could not greet her while he is there. At least, it seems that I left no visible ‘scars’ on her, seeing how easily she moved on. In more ways than one, my heart’s many songs about her were also aimed at the ever-watchful eyes and universal ears of the glowing stars. Frantic cries for help, it probably was, but like killer rainbows, it seems, they returned to me, to cut my heart in half. Oh, how hard it is ... much harder than I thought ... As I saw layer and layer of thin, white clouds swept away by the soft, high breeze far above the two lovers, who were sitting around their table with friends, I asked myself this question: Could it be that what my heart feels for her ... could it ever be gone and forgotten? It was pale, white clouds that passed by overhead and dispersed above the couple and me. Are those the many faces of my love for her in flight? I now ask. Those silent, irretrievable clouds. Why, then, does the pain in my heart prefer to stay and not with these clouds go away? Someone once claimed that a heart could only break into pieces once in a lifetime. They are wrong. I am the living proof that they are wrong. However, even though I had difficulty praying, not that I have been trying hard enough, I could not resist leaving a small, innocent goodbye prayer hanging in the air over the cute couple, before I, the same as the moving clouds above, have to disappear into a very uncertain future, by once again touching sides with my distant past with Number One and number Three. Even to face what could mean my physical death. Even to face never to be seen by her loving eyes again. Yes, it is time that I return to where it all started to go wrong for me, so many years ago. This appears to be my fate. Maybe it is just better that way. True love has proven to be just too complicated. If not for her, Number Two I mean, definitely it was too complicated for me. Tall, invisible walls of steel and granite kept me out of her world. Content I now had to be, to have loved for a few sacred moments. Never to have ... never to hold. It is not good for a man to be alone like this. This I can intensely feel, now more than ever. A queen a man must have, to share his throne, but my challenge with her was too daunting for me to let her in, and to close the door behind her. Life is all about trying to make the right choices, as you probably know, or am I wrong in saying this? For, what, really, is ‘right’ and what, really, is ‘wrong,’ when it comes to love? Yet, I have to stand firm and abide by my fate, and let it be ... and let my queen be with someone else, instead of being with me ... That same night at my place, I gazed at the stars as they positioned themselves, and I tearfully asked them again to be a million lights that will light up her way. And to make her wise in times when she does not know her way, and if and when she loses her way, like we mortals all at times do, I asked that the stars guide and lead her to a place where she will be safe. And then I repeated the singing prayer of earlier that day, which went somewhat like this ...

I can feel Him in this song as I say these words to you. I can feel Him in my heart as I do this prayer for you. So when you are in trouble and tears run down the side of your face, when you feel you are standing alone, with no one at your side. When you feel you have lost the race and it’s hard to keep the faith. You should know that there is Someone two steps behind you; watching every move ... move you make. And He is ready to hold you ... and to catch you before you break. He don’t expect much. Only for you to know that He is there and that He cares. He is everywhere. In fact, He is only two steps behind you; watching every move ... every move you make.

And it was so good to see her smiling again. Oh, how terribly I miss that beautiful smile of hers, but I knew it was going to be hard, for me at least, finally facing this cold and cruel reality, and having to deal with only a silent goodbye. However, maybe this is what she really wanted, and probably also why she did what she did to me. Yes, she, like most girls, probably did not want to travel ‘blind,’ and for some unknown reason, went on to say to her world that I lost my mind, but was it not also because it was perceived that I did not want to travel blind? However, who really knows why people do what they do, when stupid Cupid is around? On the other hand, was it the interfering evil one, just doing his usual destructive thing? Who knows why the wind blows, when it blows? Not me. But when will we ever learn? Yes, when will we ever learn? And what can I now say? That it is better to have loved and lost. That it is better for her to have risen in anger against me and eaten me up as easy as the air that she breathes. Once there was an engagement ring. The one that I am looking at right now. Oh, what a fool I have been ... Will she remember a fool like me when I have gone away for good? Gone far away into another land, and hopefully not for another lost cause? Yet, come to think of it, if she should forget me for a while, and afterwards remember me, my wish is for her not to be sad. It is better by far, that she should forget me and smile, than remember me and be sad. That is the mature way of looking at this, but I am not always that ‘strong’ when it comes to her. Nevertheless, it really was good to see her again; so good to see her. Oh, how I have missed her, since she has been gone from my life. But I believe that there is something about friendship that’s never broken, albeit badly shaken. Something that will always tie us together, no matter what went wrong. So long, my friend, so long. I wonder if she knows that she still comes to me in the silence of midnight? That she comes to me in my dreams while I sleep? That she comes with eyes shining, as bright as the rays of the sun playing on a mid-day stream? Oh, dreams, how sweet, how bittersweet life is ... You know, even when or after I was chatting with her, there were several times that I wished that I could just run or fly away. Away from loving her, but also away from my life, simply because I did not know what else to do, but to do what I have eventually done in order to let this happen, yet hoping that it would not happen. Yes, sometimes, with her, I wished that I could just run or fly away, but also away from being me. Over the moon, I wanted to fly, if I could, and it is there where I wanted to stay, if I could, until I was over loving her. And it is as if, somehow, I always knew that she was going to make me cry, yet I still fell so hard for her. And somehow, it now feels like it was always just me loving her. Yes, I may be hurting now, like it hurt back then, but I don’t blame her. If only my heart had its wonderful way, I would have stayed in the game and played it out, but it was not only up to me, how it was supposed to be. Yes, and now I am really going away literally, but not away from loving her, even if I could, because part of my heart has chosen not to let that happen. Maybe it will only be for a short, little while, until he realises that it is of no use ... As I saw them together, it confirmed my belief that there is something good, pure and so absolutely right about two ‘young’ people exploring life’s challenges together. Some days are like negotiating a narrow, dirt road and some days are as exciting as speeding on the open highway ... so I am told. I daydreamed of days with her being all pure blue sky, but while I was ‘taking my time’ daydreaming about this, my baby found a weekend lover ...

My baby found a weekend lover, while I was sleeping on my pillow. My baby found a weekend lover, while I was dreaming dreams about her. So she is into another guy, while I was dreaming of her. I could see it in her eyes ... that she found what makes her smile. That she found someone who loves her right. Someone who, probably got to spend the night.

If I had the opportunity to speak to her one last time, I would have told her never to feel that she was not ‘good enough,’ if this was, indeed, how she thought I felt over her before she lashed out at me. I would also want to say that how it ended for us, was not what I wanted. I would also want to say, ‘My sweetest love, I did not fight for you, because I grew tired of you, not because I hoped that the stars above could show me a fitter love.’ Oh, my lost love, how little is a man’s power that I can’t add another hour with you to tell you this. However, something told me it had to be over some time