text: Memories are a funny thing. Certain ones stick and many others don't, and sometimes even the important ones are lost and forgotten. I never thought that I'd spend so much time in memories, let alone memories of dreams. I first saw her 4 years ago and as important as the memory of that dream is I remember the night preceding it just as clearly. I'd gone out that night for dinner and drinks with Clara, a girl from my apartment building who I'd spent a few nights with. I remember feeling quite dull about the whole thing, but I'm excellent at feigning enthusiasm and I think that was what had lead me to the uncomfortable position I was in that night. Clara and I had sex a few times before that night, and she was beginning to get feelings for me. I hadn't been sure, but that feeling of tedium which preceded the date confirmed that I felt nothing for her. And so we ate dinner, we had drinks, had each other, and promptly after I told her that I just wasn't ready for commitment. I got ready for bed that night feeling a numbness. It wasn't something I ate, wasn't any kind of guilt over upsetting poor Clara, and it wasn't me realizing I had feelings for her this whole time. No, this feeling was one I was familiar with. It was loneliness. As I brushed my teeth the numbness evolved to a dull pain that I felt as walked through the apartment, locking the door, shutting the lights, and getting in bed. And so after I read a chapter of my book and turned off the bedside lamp, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek as I drifted off. \ When I woke up, I was in Madrid sipping coffee and reading poems by John Keats. The sun shone on my face not too harshly but just enough to warm me in a comfortable way. I put down my book and watched children play in the plaza in front of me, and that's when I saw her. At the table across from me sat a beautiful woman. The first thing I noticed was her furrowed brow, concentrating on whatever book she was reading. As my eyes drifted down I saw beautiful pools of hazel that seemed to twinkle, long, dark eyelashes, soft and full lips, and jet black hair which cascaded down her shoulders. It was then I realized I had been lost in thought staring at her for nearly a lifetime. Her eyes started to move upward towards my gaze and I quickly looked away, cursing myself for gawking. I tried in vain to sham interest in my book. When I allowed myself to sneak another glance, she was not looking at me but her book as before. Except this time there was a playful grin on her face. It was at that moment the Barista brought out breakfast. My stomach grumbled a bit at the thought, the coffee had not done much to sustain me and I so looked forward to the Empanada which was now being placed on her table? She seemed confused and tried to call after the barista who set down a fruit cup and omelet on my table without hearing my calls of protest either. We both watched the barista go inside, realizing he had earbuds in and then our eyes settled on each other. By the grace of God, I managed an easy going smile and picked up the food which had been switched up. I first asked if the plate I was holding was hers in English, and when she hesitated asked again in Spanish to her seeming delight. We exchanged breakfasts and she invited me to sit down and so we talked for hours. She was a couple years younger than I was, a fresh and spry 26. She grew up in Costa del Sol in Southern Spain as her tanned skin confirmed. We sat there and talked until dinner time, sometimes in English, sometimes in Spanish. We were both learning each others language bit by bit. \ When I dreamt I didn't always see her, however when I did it was always somewhere new. I woke to us sunning in O'ahu, sipping cocoa in a ski lodge in Colorado, camping in the Rockies, eating, drinking, and loving our way through Europe, South America, and even some of the States. The odd thing is that my dreams seemed to progress in a linear fashion. I never "first met" her twice, and if I dreamed of her a week later I'd noticed that we were a couple of years older each time. And so as I drank and fucked my way meaninglessly through my mid 20s I sometimes was treated to dreams of me and dream girl growing old together. I can remember so clearly the day I proposed, not in a flashy way but just the two of us at home eating takeout. I remember our wedding in Tuscany, the birth of our first daughter, our son, and our second daughter. I remember family taco nights, movie dates, anniversaries, graduations and our kids first heartbreaks. Soon the dreams progressed to retirement, grandchildren, and sitting together on the porch for many sunny days. I wasn't happy in my dreams because of the things we did, rather the fact that we did them together. And just as suddenly as these wonderful dreams started, they stopped. Memories, being a funny thing, sometimes insisted that odd and terrible nights never be forgotten. Ironically I will never forget the night I woke up not remembering my dream. The last time I had dreamt of her we were sitting in rocking chairs, bookshelves and chairs around us, blankets draped over our laps, and her head resting on my shoulder. But tonight as I sat up in a fright, sweating through the sheets, I realized that I could not remember what this most recent dream was about. All I felt was a numb feeling, which gave way to loneliness, and evolved into fear. I had stopped dreaming of her. \ I didn't actively look for her at first, and yet I saw dream girl everywhere. I saw pieces of her in the women I tried to fill the emptiness with, heard her in hundreds of voices, and saw her in thousands of faces on the street. It even came to seeing her in beautiful **things**. Sunrises, paintings, beautifully written passages of prose. Finally I had enough and set on finding her, because she had to exist. Our mind fills dreams with the faces of random passerby that we see all the time, so she must be out there. The Greeks believe that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Afraid of their power, the Gods split them in two, damning them to spend their life in search of their other half. The 4 years I looked for her were truly the loneliest in my life. I visited the top of Everest, walked every block of Madrid, I spent countless long weekends in Colorado ski resorts, I traveled all over Costa del Sol. I ate and drank my way through Europe, South America, and even the states, but I did not love. All I felt in place of love was an aching emptiness, a longing to become whole again, and a fear that I would not find her. \ Today I woke up back in my old apartment in the city, and decided to stop looking for a day. I went to the Hirshorn to lose myself in the sculptures and paintings there, which was ironic because I knew I would see her in each piece. As I moved to the last exhibit and scanned the room I felt the hairs on my arm stand up as I saw a beautiful woman, black hair cascading to her lower back, bright eyes of hazel, long dark lashes, soft full lips, and the hint of a smile on her face as she gazed upon a painting. It was then she turned her head and lifted her eyes to meet mine, and her smile vanished. Her smile vanished and was replaced by surprise and wide hazel eyes. She lifted a hand to her open mouth and a tear rolled down her cheek and in that moment we both knew. I know now that life doesn't just flash before you when you die, because in those few seconds I saw each dream we spent together. I saw our movie nights, our coffee dates, and the births of our children. I felt the countless times her head rested on my shoulder and her soft, tanned skin. We rushed toward each other in a blur and as I held her she looked at me and said " Te extrañé". As I looked on in disbelief I replied "Lo mismo, I missed you too." We were out the door in seconds hand in hand running to the street. She told me her side of the story and how she had gone to all the places I had, looking for me. She told me the things she felt when she dreamt of us together, our wedding, our first daughters graduation, and growing old together. She told me that she wasn't happy in those dreams because of the things we did, rather the fact that we had done them together. It was an impossible happening, but I didn't care because finally I had her. And as I realized that we were still in real life she asked me "What now?". And the words came easily. I plucked a strand of grass nearby and knotted it into a circle. I knelt down, looked up at her, and told her. "I don't know where we go now. But I do now that I want to go there with you. I chose you in my dreams and I choose you now because I want to keep choosing you every day for the rest of my life. Even if you don't want forever and our dreams of marriage and grandkids don't come true I still choose you. Because even if those days are finite I want each one.” Tears in her eyes, she whispered back . "Lo mismo amor, I choose you too.