I dreamed about you again. It woke me up. 

This time, your sister had invited me to an event and I wasn't sure I should come. I didn't know if you would be there, and I didn't want you to see me. I was so ashamed of myself. 

But my sister and brother told me, "you should," and then they drove me. We had trouble with maps and traffic and by the time we arrived, the event was over, and everyone was standing to leave. I saw you in the crowd and, before I could turn, you had seen me too. And I didn't want to be the person who ran away so I stood there, frozen to the spot. I thought you would scream at me again. 

But you didn't. And then Arnoud was there too, and he took us into a room to try and talk. 

But I, as always, lost my words. I am speechless when these feelings overwhelm me, unable to explain or defend or advocate for myself. I somehow know that I could fight through the overwhelm and dissociation and make myself talk - but then the words would be some hollow representation of my true self: as if my body were merely a puppet saying what I wanted to say, but unable to give them life. And I don't want to be that person again. If I speak to you, I only want to do it with my true self, and that part is too hidden when I am terrified of you.

You gave me a bag - and in it were the shoulder shields of your uniform, and you told me that they were for me. 

"I'm so proud of you," you said. "I've seen everything you've done. I've been so proud." 

And all I could do was cry. Speechless and frozen. 

So Arnoud talked for me. He described everything you'd done. He talked about how it has altered my life, how I have suffered. He gave words to the things I couldn't tell you myself. 

"With everything you've done to her, can you see why she wouldn't have known how you feel?" he asked. 

And you put your hands around my hands and tenderly pulled me in close and hugged me. 

"I love you," you said. "I've never stopped. I've always loved you." 

I don't know if that is true. Are these dreams merely a manifestation of my need? What I would need from you? For you to understand what it has meant to lose you? For you to see me? For you to love me still? 

I couldn't bear to have you see me as I am. I am too ashamed. But this does not stop the constant pull of my thoughts and mind and soul back to you - even when I dream.