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          “I want to worry about my religion myself and come to terms with it.  I don’t want you to tell me what to do.”  I was hurt, and it seemed like there was no escape, not even in dreams.  


            He grabbed my arm in an iron grip and squeeze until I felt pain.  He continued, “Would it be so difficult if you converted to Islam to marry me?  Will you die if you have to cover up?  I don’t understand why women like to show their beauty to everyone and tempt people to sin.”


            “That’s not the point.  I don’t want you to rule my life and this is already a bad start.”  I pleaded for him to understand and to release me.  What would my life be like if we were married?  I shivered in dread and cold.  Would he turn into a controlling and abusive monster?  It was hard to say, I don’t know why I’ve never seen his anger, rage, and hatred that he had buried inside.


            “So you will throw away our love just like that?”


            “Please.  I want you to find a strict and traditional Muslim girl to marry, maybe someone in your city.”  I still love him and I wish him well and happiness for him. 

            “I don’t care for them.  I don’t like the girls in my city.”


            “Well, what girls do you like then?”  I was a tad annoyed at this point.


            “I don’t know.  Maybe UK Muslim girls, Persian girls, or Iranian girls.” 


            He’s really immature and indecisive, for a grown adult.  “Well, which one is it?”


            “I don’t know.”  He still didn’t let me go yet.


            “Well, you need to find a girl and be happy.  I wish you happiness.” 


            How could a sweet dream turn into a nightmare so fast?  I had not gotten even a kiss this time and how can I possibly lust after someone who shows me this side of himself?


            Something vague pushed at the edge of my mind, it was the scenery.  I realized its all wrong.  The peaceful tranquility of the valley with its dense trees didn’t fit into this dream very well. 


            He makes his home near the lake, though that too is too calm a place.  He reminds me of the sea, a storm hovering on the horizon ready to cause havoc to all in its path.  


            “I hate everyone. I hate them.” He was yelling by this time.


            I tugged my arm out of his grip, almost tripping over fallen branches and rocks.  I bet there would be a bruise in a day or two if we had met in person.  But he left a bruise in my heart.  How could something so intense and filled with love turn this ugly so fast?


            “I want to move to Iran and wait until the US starts a war with Iran so I can kill your soldiers.”  This was said with so much anger and hatred that whatever emotions I felt, and whatever love or feelings for him that I had died on the spot.  I could not recognize him.  Who is this person?  “If you come as a soldier I will not kill you but I will ask you to convert and tell you to go back.”


            Still, that left a sour taste in my mouth and heart.  How could he profess to love me?  If this is the kind of love he has to offer, I don’t want it.  I want peace, happiness, and someone I can be with comfortably. 


            I ran into the forest.  I ran further into the trees, trying to get lost and to forget his voice.  His voice haunts me.  Promises of intense and forever love…  I cover my ears with my hands, I will not listen.  I refuse to believe him.


            Let me forget.  Let me forget this episode and move on.  I know there is a clearing after the forest and I know I can stop and rest, it will be peaceful and quiet.  I will be welcomed with open arms, friendly smiles, and kept safe by a family who loves me.

         The END.



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