Heartache

The past few weeks I’ve experienced, intermittently, some odd sensations in the left side of my chest. Sometimes it’s a crushing feeling, other times, a stabbing one. One night, the discomfort manifested itself in a dream:

A doctor – one that makes house calls – had come to visit me, in my bedroom. We’ll call her Ashley (not her actual name). A girl I know in real life. A girl I liked in real life, but extenuating circumstances convinced me it didn’t make sense to put in the effort. Those circumstances being, she wasn’t interested.

I told her about the pressure in my chest and that I was experiencing shortness of breath. She took out her stethoscope and began a battery of tests, which, for some reason, involved her having to straddle me.

I know what you’re thinking, “This degenerate fell asleep watching some kind of nurse-patient porn!” Right? Wrong. It was teacher-student.

Concluding that my heart was healthy enough, we kissed. She recoiled in disgust. “What do you expect?” I defended myself, “I just woke up!”

I went over to the sink to brush my teeth while Ashley waited. We were going to get a bite to eat.

We headed downstairs. Chris Pratt, of Guardians of the Galaxy fame, appeared. Apparently he was my roommate. He walked out the front door without saying a word. Ashley raced after him. I followed. In a cruel twist, he was now the one taking her to lunch, at Burger King.

Ashley turned to face me, as she was about to step into a…red Suzuki Vitara? Star-Lord can surely do better than that. Must have been my car. She tilted her head for me to give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye, at the same time shooting me an exasperated look as if to say, “You’re really going to let this happen? You’re going to let some guy take your girl to your fourth favourite fast-food restaurant, in your own car?”

I did let it happen because I’m a coward. I kissed her and returned upstairs to my room. I fired up a web browser on my laptop and began typing, P-O-R-…..kidding, that part didn’t happen.

Ashley returned to the apartment later with a friend. We sat on the couch in the living room while they waited on Chris to get ready to go out again. It seemed I was invisible to them though.

“I blew it,” I chided myself as the two girls chatted excitedly about tuna.

The moral of the story? Well, first of all, perhaps if you’re feeling a crushing sensation where your heart is, maybe see an actual doctor!?

Secondly, I think what my subconscious was reflecting here is my passive nature. I’d rather wait for things to just fall into my lap instead of going after something I want that might require a bit of a fight.

Alternatively, my subconscious could be telling me that everything is pointless because some rich prat is just going to come along and steal your girl anyway.

What do you think?