This is what comes from my brain when i don’t get enough sleep. lol.
One of the biggest issues my wife and I had was with communication. After six years of being married, i could now look in her eyes and know that there was something going on in her head that she did not feel comfortable talking about. Other than that, i always felt as if there was no problem, and everything between us was fine. That is until I found and read through her diary.
There are times in a marriage when a man should question if he truly knows his wife. I didn’t know her until i found the book, hidden under our mattress, on her side of the bed. When reading through it, I realized, not only had I not been so attentive to her lately, but i had become comfortable with her being in my life, that we no longer did things that were entertaining for us. We both just became accustomed to going to work, coming home, chit-chatting and going to bed. This was our daily routine, but I guess I was the only one that was comfortable with living that way. I didn’t know that it bothered her, but then again, it’s been years since my wife and I really sat down and had a long deep conversation. Now that i think of it, We hadn’t gone out and had fun in three long years. She also vents about that on the pages in her diary. Just as I began to feel sorry for how bad I’ve neglected and ignored my wife, I then found out about Glenn.
She first met Glenn in a dream she had a year or so ago. She described the scene as being in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by thousands of people, yet feeling more alone than ever before in her life. She bumped into a tall, handsome,well-dressed, charming young man who gave her butterflies for the first time since she was a college student. I didn’t know you could get butterflies in your sleep.
What felt like days in the dream world were actually just one hour of sleep in reality, and spent every minute of time with this Glenn character. She describes him as being the man of her dreams. They went everywhere and did damn-near everything together. In fact, the last ninety pages of her diary talks about him, as if he were a real human being. I couldn’t be mad at this, for Glenn was just a made-up character, and it showed me the things that i had not but could be doing for my wife, and to strengthen our marriage. Non of this bothered me until i seen how turned-off my wife was to me, for she’d rather be committed to a fiction character in her imagination.
Again, i thought i knew my wife. Sex had never been something to brag about, it was always the same as it was last time. In fact, we never did anything out of the ordinary, which was just me on top, and her under me, hardly saying a word,, showing little to no interest. I didn’t think so then, or i guess i should say that i did not care if she was into it or not. I had no idea that she was satisfying herself in these dreams of hers. She wrote how the two of them would have sex in the craziest of places. Elevators, dark allies, restaurant restrooms and other places that I’d rather not think of being intimate with my wife at. She enjoyed the thought of doing these things with another man, which would explain why i used to hear her panting and rubbing her legs together while sleeping, next to me in bed. It was real to her, having rough sex with this man, on top of the hood of his Camero. These are thoughts that i would never think of doing with her, but these were her kinky little fantasies. Think, do you really know your wife?
As i finished the book, i set out to change our marriage and make things entertaining for her once again. but she showed no interest in doing anything with me anymore, as she had found her escape from what she described in her book as a miserable, boring slave marriage. She couldn’t wait to go to sleep, so she could spend time with Glenn and explore new places with this — this, character.
I couldn’t believe that i had become jealous of a person that did not truly exist. He was pulling my wife away from me, or maybe i was the reason for this. I do blame myself at times for what has become of our failed marriage. Know this, i always set out to have that American dream of a wife, kids, a nice house and two parked cars in the driveway. Things just didn’t turn out that way, and maybe it’s all my fault.
It was Christmas day, and i couldn’t get my wife out of bed for one minute, even if it were to have breakfast. She’d rather starve and force herself to be sleep. She had planned on sleeping throughout the entire day, hoping that she could spend Christmas with Glenn in her little imaginary world that she had created for the both of them. Can you believe that? My wife would rather spend the holiday dreaming time away than be with her real-life husband and family. We had argued the entire day. I never seen my wife cry, but from what she wrote in her diary, i made her cry every day, she just never wanted me to see it. She was fed up and done with me. The only problem was that she believed and invested so much of her heart into this Glenn character, she began to think that what they did in her dreams was actually real. If Glenn was real, he’d be smiling in my face at that moment, as i stood in the bedroom doorway, watching my wife cry her eyes out, saying how much she despised me. I left her in the room and dragged my ass to the bar. I tried to drink the pain away, but it sat strong in the front of my mind, tormenting me, knowing that there was nothing i could do to fix things. I had lost a battle to a man that did not exist. Maybe it was never his fault, maybe i did this to myself. God knows i love my wife to death, but maybe i could have done more to show it. Oh well, it was too late. I paid up and walked back home, and what i found there was not a dream at all.
I opened the bedroom door, thinking she would still be laying there, with the sheets halfway off of her body, trying to force herself to sleep. Her eyes were closed and her left arm was hanging off of the bed. Below her arm on the floor was an empty bottle that once contained sleeping pills. My wife was so intent to spend the rest of her life with her dream mate, and so she did, never to awaken again. I’d like to think that somewhere in another dimension is my wife, having the time of her life, but we all know that dreams are not real.
© 2012 Christopher L. Bacon – firstname.lastname@example.org