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I just awoke from a dream and must get it out before I sleep again and it loses its power.

What’sHisName came to visit the children for a holiday dinner.  He brought OtherWoman with him.  I had a strong feeling of anxiety as I watched them park in my driveway through a window.  I stood in my foyer and waited for them to ring the doorbell.  But then, I had an urge to see my house one last time before it got rearranged or sullied with His presence, so I walked a slow loop through my hallway, living room, kitchen, piano room; stopping in each room to take stock.  I looked at my soothing colors, touched my favorite photographs, picked up candles to smell them and, unexplainably, ran warm water over my hand in the kitchen sink and then walked back to my foyer with a very strong knowledge.

This is my house.  This is my house.  This is my house.  This is my home.

I opened my front door just as He was opening my storm door and preparing to knock.  His face was very tense as he ushered OtherWoman to the front of himself and said, in a squeezed voice, “OtherWoman, Serena.  Serena, OtherWoman.”

“Oh, I know exactly who she is.” I said, not unkindly.

She nervously extended her hand, but averted eye contact.  I shook it and as we released, she began to weep.  “It’s ok.” I said, and gave her a small hug. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed and I pulled her into a full on momma hug; chest to chest and petting the back of her head while trying to soothe her between her apologies.

“Shhhhh.  It’s alright.”
“Shhhhh.  It’s ok.”
“Shhhhh.  He’s yours now.  All yours.”

She calmed a little and pulled back to look me in the eye, as if that’s what she was waiting to hear.  “Really.  He’s yours.  It’s ok.”

She exhaled in relief and wiped at tears that were still streaming.

“He’s yours.  But you have to know what it was like for us when he left,” I said, holding her two hands now, and talking very close.  She nodded and sniffed.  I struggled for the words to fit the surprise, the abandonment, the duplicitousness, the cruelty.  The only sentence that could encompass all of it was, “And you will.”

The dream did not end there, but took a strange twist, entering another dimension as dreams often do.

OtherWoman and I prepared dinner together, while What’sHisName and ShirtlessRoland hovered near by.  She began telling me some of their stories, and he corrected nearly every aspect.  I told him to stop arguing.

“Oh, What’sHisName doesn’t argue,“ she interrupted me.  “That’s one reason we work.”

“He’s arguing with you now.” I said, but she kept chopping something leafy and green.

This angered What’sHisName and he raised his voice and said some very nasty things (all of which I’ve heard in his rants while I’m awake).  “I refuse to fight with you,” I said.

As OtherWoman interrupted me to tell me that he would never fight, What’sHisName turned his unhappiness on the otherwise-occupied, laughing children and yelled at them for making too much noise.

She then went on to tell me that he is such a kind father and he’s so good with animals.  Before I could say another word, ShirtlessRoland silently placed his hand on top of mine.  I knew this to mean, “Shhhh.”

Just as I turned my attention back to cooking, it hit me; she isn’t the Other Woman.  She is the inexperienced, naïve Me.

There was a brief moment of internal fright and panic to try and save her.  ShirtlessRoland’s hand was there again, on mine.  “It’s ok,” he said.  “It ends well.”

And on that note, I believe I’ll be able peacefully slumber for what’s left of night time.

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