fate? miracle? karma?

On this day.  January 18.  Eight years ago.  Jon sent me a friend request.

Big whoop?

Um, no.

You see…  This was divine intervention.  Or something…

Friday night I had a dream.  This was pretty typical – I was newly “separated and filed for divorce” and saw Chicago Therapist on Saturday mornings.  Friday to Saturday sleeps usually included a dream that had me trapped in my subconscious for hours – pulling at the knots to see what unraveled.  This dream was HUGE.  It seemed monumental.  I can recall details and colors and feelings and smells…  Some day, we’ll get the whole dream – but for now…

The pink Cadillac was almost totalled.  It still moved – but it was barely able to roll up in front of the random middle school I was in front of in the middle of the woods / mountains / hills.  I knew, in my gut, I had caused the damage.  There had been an accident and I had caused it.  I KNEW it, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d done to cause such damage.  I was convinced that I was the reason this piece of automotive artwork was trashed.

There were three teenage African-American boys in the car.  The driver was the worst off.  He was missing an ear, white foam oozing from his slack mouth.  The passenger was vomiting blood.  But the dude in the back?  I couldn’t really tell what was wrong.  I could hear him telling me to go get help.  To call 911.  But he didn’t seem too injured.  I couldn’t really make out his features.

So, on to Chicago Therapist.

We dig into the dream.  I make pretty big realizations.  But who was in the back seat?  Driver = soon to be ex-husband, sick (foaming), deaf (missing an ear)                                          Passenger = high school boyfriend, heart-broken (bleeding)

But the back seat guy?

And so the question was asked – have you loved anyone else?

There were random guesses to make Chicago Therapist happy – my dad?  Chicago Rescuer? She didn’t buy any of that…  And then it hit me.  Oh yeah…  There had been this guy in college.  I’d been obsessed.  I’m pretty sure I loved him.  His name was Jon.

I said the name aloud.  I said it aloud for the first time in about 10 years.

-> I’d had dreams about Jon over the past decade.  When I was first married and had moved to Santa Monica, within the first month I dreamed of Jon.  Not in a physical / sexual way.  More like, our souls / essences visited one another.  And it was like I got him in my bloodstream – like I’d smelled him and the scent was lingering for several days.  It was that real those dreams.  It would happen every so often.  And I’d wish the next night to visit him again…

So I said the name aloud and it was in relation to someone I had truly loved.

BUT – whatever, right?  I’m in the midst of the messiness of the beginning of a divorce that was not mutually desired.  I was trying to take care of Finn who’s seperation anxiety was through the roof.  I was living with my brother in a shoebox.  I wasn’t eating.  I weighed 98 pounds.  Chamomile Tea and Ensure were about the only things I could stomach.  I didn’t know up from down or right from left (well, still sketchy on that one…) and ‘ain’t nobody got time to chase after some feeling leftover from 1997.’

And then.  Sunday.  I got a Facebook Friend Request.

Jon asked me to be his FB friend.

Out of ALL the Sundays he could have requested…  it was the DAY after I said out loud to the world that I had truly been in love with Jon.

And you know the best part?  We didn’t even have friends in COMMON!  Right?  He saw me in a photo from 1996 posted by someone I wasn’t “friends” with.

So, believe what you’d like…  Was it fate?  Karma?  Destiny?  A Miracle?  Divine Intervention?  God’s Plan?  Chance?  Coincidence?

And eight year later – we went to work together in the shop.  I was ripping shelving tracks on the water jet while Jon bounced between customers and finishing the cuts.  What an amazing trip life is.



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