I am sitting down beside her.
She laughs as I look deep into her eyes.
Then I move my arm around her shoulders to cradle her close to my chest.
I pull her close. My fingers trace the side of her face.
She has a strand of her hair covering up her left eye.
I move it out of my way, and in that moment – our eyes lock.
I move closer.
Amanda is watching on in disbelief. “What is Ben doing, and who is this girl he is with?” Her eyes begin to well up with tears.
I lean closer to this other woman. Our lips are only separated by a space as small as a pencil. It looks like we might kiss.
She continues to watch me in disbelief. “He would not kiss her. He would not do that. He would not do that to me.”
Tears begin rolling heavily down her face, as her fears come to fruition.
I leaned in heavily, and my lips met the lips of a woman who wasn’t my wife.
….AMANDA WOKE UP!
The whole heart-wrenching ordeal was only a dream. But although the dream was over – the argument was yet to be.
For Amanda, the emotions she was dealing with – as she was dreaming – didn’t stop with the dream. She was sad and mad while the dream was happening. She was still sad and mad – after the dream was over.
The relief of it being a dream had yet to ease the emotions of the nightmare.
“Good morning, babe!” I say to her – stretching off the night’s sleep.
With a less than enthusiastic response – Amanda reacts: “Yeah. Morning.” She seems to be in a dazed anger.
I don’t think that much of her response because it isn’t enough to say that Amanda is “not a morning person.” Her and the morning are not great friends.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask.
“Fine.” Again – a brief, cold response, and she gives me an angry look.
I leave her alone for a bit, as she washes her face and brushes her teeth. I make my way to the kitchen and put on bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee.
I keep trying to talk to her, but she doesn’t fail to be short with me.
After a while – I start to get irritable about it. “What is wrong with you today?” I ask abruptly.
“Nothing is wrong.” She is still cold in her response to me.
The smell of breakfast is filling the air, but the feeling of tension is far heavier and hotter than what is on the stove.
I attend to the needs of the bacon and the eggs. The coffee pot gurgles loudly. The “DING” of the toaster echoes across the kitchen.
Breakfast is almost finished.
Amanda draws a knife from the kitchen drawer.
…to cut the toast of course.
An awkward silence is between us like a wall.
I look at her. “Amanda…”
The tension rises.
Then she speaks.
Abruptly, she confesses her anger. “I saw you cheating on me.”
“Huh? Cheating?” I respond confused.
“Well, in my dream, I saw you cheating on me. I saw you cheating on me in my dream last night.” She said with a confessional tone.
“Are you serious? That’s why you’re being short with me?” I stand in relief of disbelief.
Amanda is still confused in her emotions. She wants to laugh – but she is obviously mad.
“Yeah. I still feel like you did it – but I know you didn’t.” She thought to herself reflecting.
“I’m mad that you did it in my dream!” She says trying to make sense of it all.
“How can you be mad at me for that?” I respond.
“I don’t know. I just still feel like it.” She pauses. “It’s weird, ya know?”
I turn away from the stove, and I face her. I open my arms, and she falls into my embrace. I hold her tightly, and I kiss her on the neck.
“When I said “yes” to you, I said “no” to everyone else. Whether I feel it or not – I will always choose to love you. There can be no one else – because no one else can be you.” I say to reassure her.
“Will you forgive me for what I didn’t do, Amanda?” I ask innocently – trying to provoke s mile.
“Oh shut up, Ben!” She smiles at me. I know she’s over it now.
Then I argue for the obvious. “Besides! You have no reason to be mad with me for something I did not do!”
“I know.” She says with a laugh. “But you won’t ever do it, right?”
“Amanda, you have my word, my vows, my heart, and my life. You have everything. I won’t ever do it.” I promise her.
She smiles satisfied with my affirmation of our love.
A moment passes, and I begin putting breakfast on the plates.
I laugh to myself because I know I’m about to do something dumb.
“Hey Amanda! About that dream you had…?” I inquire being solely intent on mischief.
“Yeah, babe? What about it?”
“The girl I was cheating on you with in the dream?”
Amanda shows her concern. “Uh huh…”
“Was she hot?”
This was only funny to me. “Too soon, babe. Too soon.”
Ya know – I used to dream of ideas of the perfect woman, the kind of woman I hoped I could marry. She was beautiful, kind, godly, compassionate, and inspiring. I thought the dream of that woman could not be outdone.
Then I met Amanda, and she was better than anything I dreamed of. She gave me greater faith that God can always outdo what I believe is best for me – if I just trust Him.
If I sought for the right words to describe my Amanda – this blog could never be written.
Truly, my reality with her has always been better than what I was ever able to dream of without her.
It was still the 2nd Dumbest Argument we have ever had though.
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