I dreamt last night that I met the most beautiful woman. I seemed to be helping her out of some place (we were driving out of a canyon on a nice day).
The car broke down and we had a long walk ahead of us. Eventually, she could no longer walk and I carried her on my shoulders. We spent the entire day talking and laughing and by the time we reached a town we were comfortable enough with one another to be holding hands.
Before we reached town, we had both discovered something about her. Through this sadness she carried with her and deduction of dates and places she described and through looking back at moments where people seemed to have ignored her, we came to the realization that she had died and was a ghost.
As you could imagine, this was devastating to her. She thought of course there was no longer any way for us to be close to one another, people would think I was mad. As we walked into town the looks and judgment I received from onlookers as I interacted with her was quite accurate to our foresight, but I reassured her it didn’t matter because I didn’t care.
I woke up with feelings of immense love and rapture.
I then realized something I’ve always known (but sometimes need reminding of), that it truly doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of you and your place in the world or your right to happiness.
You define your own happiness and you can’t let anyone take it away from you or infect it with their own ideas.
I hope to see that lovely ghost girl again and perhaps learn her name.
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