The genius of Hugh Grant applies today.

Let me start this post by saying that everybody has one person that they've never really gotten over. I don't mean that we still harbor crazy romantic feelings for this person, or that we're still secretly hoping that they'll show up and confess their undying love and we'll end up honeymooning in Hawaii, but that things between us ended for one reason or another and we still feel...unfinished. Things didn't close out smoothly. Whenever we see them or hear their name, there's some part of our heart that twitches just a little bit.

Sometimes I dream about my person. Usually he's just in the background - sometimes I don't even speak to him in the dream. I'm just aware of his presence. He rarely has a starring role.

But I had one of those dreams last night -you know, the kind where you wake up exhausted and thinking "Whoa."

I dreamed that, for some unexplained reason, I called him. He answered the phone and we didn't speak. For minutes. I just held the phone to my ear and I could hear him breathing, and he could hear me. Then I started crying and suddenly I was walking. Seconds later I was at his house (in reality, he lives out of state and is married to a lovely girl, but in dream-land, I guess anything's possible). He met me at the door and didn't say a word. He just hugged me - hard - and said "It happened. I cared. You mattered." We hugged for a little while longer and I left.

Then I woke up.

And all day I've been feeling gloomy. Moribund (thank you, Hugh Grant). I've listened to depressing music and maybe even cried a little bit. All thanks to that stupid dream.

But I know what it meant - we all just want to know that we have meant something to someone - that our interaction with them didn't leave them completely unaffected. Our existence was remembered.

All week I've been feeling sort of forgotten, for want of a better word. I know my family loves me. My friends love me. But I'm lonely. As much as I love my apartment and my cat and my freedom...I miss having someone's hand to hold. I'm able to fight it off at work, but when I get home and it's dark and I'm alone except for the sound of the tv or iPod, it gets to me. I don't want it to always be this way.

I want to believe that things will change, that tomorrow I'll either meet someone who changes the equation or that I'll snap out of this funk and be ok. But today...it's tough.

Ugh. Moribund. Yep. Mor-i-bund.