Several weeks ago, I had a dream about my ex. Don’t worry, I am not leading you through a detailed naughty, sexual anecdote. But rather that of a virtuous, vivid dream that helped me repent with a former flame. It started with a petty argument that resembled one of our many real-life feuds. Then he stops and he looks at me with those serious yet sympathetic eyes of his and says, “I miss taking care of you, I miss buying you things.” Fighting back tears, I reply, “I am not a child anymore. I am grown now. Treat me as an equal.” He closes in on me and says, “That’s ridiculous.” In the dream, mind you, I am going through the depression that accompanies a broken heart. Friends are slowly disappearing, bummed out by my helpless agony. I begin to heal at a very lucrative pace. The next scene shows me finally starting to get my life back on track. I have a job and I am interacting with a customer when my ex comes in post haste with a gun and starts shooting up the place. A co-worker ushers me towards a safe haven behind a dense collection of aisles. He eventually runs into me, as if he didn’t know that I would be there that day. It was that split second of hesitation that allows the cops a chance to bring him down. He looks at me as he lays dying with those sympathetic eyes of his and utters his last words, “will I become an angel?” I crawl beside his potential cadaver and hold his trembling hands. I nod in response to his interrogative. The only response I ever had that was true. I woke up in tears before my sister-in-law comes down the staircase to give me a heartwarming hug. I forgive him. That was the melancholy part of this story for I never thought I could forgive an ex without expecting anything in return. Have a wonderful day, my fallen angels. Penance is freedom. Over and out.