I’m face-to-face with my therapist, whose mouth has been hanging open for a solid minute. 

I stop picking at my jeans' threads. "So, yeah. That's how my first date with him went."

Jenny’s eyebrows furrow. She reverses her legs from crossed to uncrossed to crossed again. “I’m sorry, can we back up for a second? You said your date turned around and…?”

“Sniffed some woman’s neck.”

“Just some random woman?” Jenny’s bountiful, dark curls shimmy with the rapid jut of her chin. “Did he know her?”

“That's what I wondered too! But I don't think so. She turned around and said something like, ‘I've been waiting to meet you.’” 

“And then they…?” 

I wince, the woman’s heaving moans replaying in my mind like the broken porno I found lodged into Dad’s old VCR - something I’d rather not remember but will remember until I die. “Then they went into the bathroom and started having sex. Loud sex.”

“Leaving you to sit there, alone and confused.”

“Yeah... Pretty much.”

Jenny’s deflating shoulders hurt my heart even worse than it already stings, validating that, yes, this is my life, and yes, I’m back at square one in the dating world. Again.

“You’ve kept a straight face throughout the story, but I get the feeling this was more hurtful than you're letting on,” Jenny says.

I swallow hard. “I don't know which part of it hurts more, but...”

“Is this about the dream again?”

“N-no…” I shake my head hard enough to convince myself this is separate. 

Until I remember what I did for an entire hour after I got home, unable to stop crying as I vision-boarded away my crushed hopes for the future. And it would’ve lasted longer - if I didn’t realize I was compulsively attempting and re-attempting to find a photo to match the sexy guy I always meet in my recurring dream, unable to find the perfect replica of his scruffy, squared jawline.

“Well, okay, maybe it is about the dream. But that's not all of it. I know some amazing guy I met in a dream will never magically show up in real life. And I know we've talked about setting realistic dating expectations and keeping my mind open. But everything has been disappointing. Like no matter what, I’m bound to feel hurt. And after how many horrific things have happened in my life, I'm scared that no one will ever…”

I choke back tears, unable to continue.

“Oh, honey.” Jenny hands me a tissue, and I can’t bear to look at her aching for me. “You're scared that no one will ever...?”

“Love me.”

There's a painful silence as I weep, trying my best to let Jenny see me upset without hiding myself. Besides my best friend Amy, Jenny is the only person I let see me upset.

Jenny softens her voice, leaning over her glass coffee table to rub my shoulder. “Are you telling yourself you're not lovable?”

“I just get the feeling that there has to be someone better out there. At least one person? But maybe that’s unrealistic too.”

Jenny’s playful smile softens my nerves. “Or maybe the guy who has sex with random women in the bathroom while on a first date just isn't your guy.”

“Maybe.” I laugh. But my fears resurface, gnawing at my guts. “At least I hope he's not my guy. I hope he's the last guy like that I'll have to waste my time on. …Or person, rather.”

“Then who is your person? Now that you've tested the waters, what are you looking for in a partner this time?”

I stop picking at my nails. What makes Mr.-Sexy-Dream-Guy different from everyone I haven’t clicked with? As my mind wanders to my last long-term relationship five years ago, my voice comes out soft and shaky. “I try hard to understand people I love, even if we don't see eye to eye. If my partner and I could try to meet halfway, maybe I’d finally feel safe with someone.”

Jenny lights up.

But before I can stop myself, I say what wrecks my hopes. “If feeling safe again is possible.”

“Well, what if? Maybe it isn’t possible. Or maybe it is. Who’s to say?” Jenny’s smirk grants me a weary smile - she’s poking at my “what-if” with further uncertainty like we always practice. “It sounds like, at the root of it, you want to be with someone who deeply values you. Do you think people exist in the world who value their partners?”

“I’d… like to hope so.”

We share a minute of silence as I pick my nails, mulling over everything we've worked through in our sessions.

My recurring dream initially seemed like a trauma coping mechanism - my brain’s way of grappling with the utter destruction my ex caused. His violence ruined sex for me. The shift was made from pleasurable to horrifying, and nothing can bring me back to how I was before Steven laid his hands on me. With how many intrusive thoughts explode within my mind around sex - detailing graphic ways I could be tortured again - I haven’t been able to crawl my way back to the idea of intimacy with another man.

Except for the man in my recurring dream. My core heats just thinking about it, his strong hands gripping my hips over his bare body because I want them to, not because he “needs” me to. 

But from the first day I had the meeting-my-sexy-soulmate dream, I never believed it would come true. The problem is that no relationship in reality ever seemed as good. The woman I went on a few dates with last month helped me feel safer with kissing and cuddling, but we were always missing that spark. One I can feel, not search for or struggle to create. 

My dream’s "soulmate" wasn't perfect - stumbling over words and standing stiff, like he didn’t know what to do with my presence. But that made me love him more. He was just... My soulmate. I don't have words for why I knew he was. It was a feeling. Deep, infinite love.

That I've never been able to find in real life. I'm tired of being hurt. I want to love someone who actually loves me. Someone I can be vulnerable with without feeling scared.

There's one thing I haven't tried to help myself let go of the dream, but I'm not sure Jenny will like it.

Right on cue, she gives me a soft smile. “It looks like you’re working through something. Can you walk me through it with you?”

A heavy lump nestles into my throat. The truth feels too terrifying to start with, so I settle for half. “I've been trying the same things and getting the same results. Of course it won't work out how I want it to.”

Jenny chuckles. “If there was a way we could all find the greatest loves of our lives in a heartbeat, we would.”

“I know, and I know I'll have to wait. But I also think doing nothing is ineffective.”

“Does that mean you have an idea in mind?” The slow smile stretching to Jenny’s eyes tells me she sees through me.

Screw it. I’ll embarrass the hell out of myself. At least it’s confidential.

“What if instead of pretending the dream never happened, I recreated it?”

I’m met with silence.

Then concern overwrites Jenny’s curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Dammit. It’s too late to go back. “What if I go to the forest - just one time - tracing my steps in that dream.”

“What would be the purpose of that? It was a dream, and I'm concerned chasing it could validate the fantasy.” 

Jenny leaves no room to budge, and I shrink into her cushy couch. But her focused stare doesn’t look angry. She’s worried, and I don’t blame her. This could sound like I’m losing progress. 

“I’m not trying to disappoint you or tell you what to do, honey. I’m mainly concerned this could leave you even more disappointed when your hot soulmate doesn't come looking for you in the forest.” Jenny breaks into a soft smile. “Especially not one you have the immediate urge to get down and dirty with in the leaves.”

I laugh with her, rubbing my neck. The heavy, incredible sex is the most unrealistic part of that dream, knowing me. I can't open up to anyone, let alone open up my pants for them the second we meet.

I put on my best smile. “That's true. It was just an idea - something I've never tried.”

Jenny taps her lip, thinking hard. “I want to say you could check the forest out.” My heart flips, but Jenny raises a halting hand. “If! And only if - it's not for the sole purpose of waiting for ‘him.’”

“I'm not waiting for ‘him’ anymore. I know Mr. Sexy Dream Dude doesn't exist. I want to let this forest dream go, once and for all.”

Jenny nods, but I know she’s tracing my eyes for any hint of doubt. Of course, my debilitating doubt disorder is why I’m here.

“Do you feel this will benefit you? Do you have any compulsive urges to do the opposite?” She asks.

“Yes. I’ve realized I avoided the forest for a long time, just because of the dream.”

Jenny relaxes into her cushy armchair, her foot bouncing as she re-crosses her legs. “Then I’d say go for it. But please, Aliya, call me if anything comes up around this. This isn't the only solution.”