Last night I dreamt that I “cheated”…
On my lover…my partner, with another man.
It was a blurry, meaningless, swept-up-in-the-moment kind of indiscretion, as opposed to an emotion-laden betrayal. Still it was a lapse in better judgment, which I all too often fall victim.
When righteously confronted, I stumbled…a flood of shame, which lead to justifications and pitiful pleas for atonement.
What followed was surprising even to me, the dreamer, caught in the emotions of loss and guilt:
A spontaneous moment of passion…initiated by him…in the midst of his anger…bringing a new and conflicting set of emotions: desire, submission, rage, and even tenderness.
It was truly a fervent scene…more so for the impromptu and unexpected nature of it than for the fact that we were speeding along very fast, ripping clothing, and tearing skin, which of course only added to the mania of it all.
When I awoke…I thought, as a dreamer often does, “Did that really happen? Am I really embroiled in some dangerous liaison and of my own making?”
I then turned and struck him…while he slept (!)
He moved only slightly, one grunt, then returned to a peaceful rest. But my rage, passion, desire, and shame remained…as I turned to hold him…forcing me to consider:
Passion as a dialectic.
Passion is focused and intense, driven and eager.
Passion is (also) furious, violent and even…misery.
With all of these compelling yet conflicting emotions…is it any wonder why love gives us such strife?
What impacted me the most was the swiftness with which “the coin flipped”…one moment shame, the next lust, next fury, and then tenderness.
Passion is a reflection of the heart, and as such…can never fully be defined, understood, or tamed…nor do I believe it should.
Cheers to Friday…cheers to passion!