After a hard day’s work, we piled into the pub for a well-deserved drink.
‘What are you having?’ my boss Stewart asked with a grin.
I barely gave him a second glance at the parcel delivery place where we worked, but off duty he was a different bloke.
Funny, easy-going and now flirting with me. I flirted right back and soon we’d set up a date.
Next day, I told my workmates on our tea break.
‘Honestly, I think he’s my dream man,’ I said.
They almost spat out their cuppas with laughing.
‘Is that the beer goggles talking?’ my friend hooted.
‘I didn’t have that much to drink,’ I replied. ‘I really like him!’
I really did and six months later, Stewart asked me to move in with him.
‘Are you sure it won’t be too much, living and working together?’ I asked.
Stewart just rolled his eyes and pulled me close.
‘You could never be too much,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t get enough of you.’
So I went to live with Stewart — and his Rottweiler, Roxy. She looked fierce but was a complete softie, curling up with us on the sofa.

I was blissfully happy, until a few days after Valentine’s Day when I saw a message from a woman on Stewart’s phone, asking to see him.
‘Er, who’s that?’ I asked.
‘It’s my ex,’ Stewart replied with a shrug. ‘She just gets jealous sometimes and I have to calm her down.’
That’s a weird answer, I thought.
Stewart was with me now, so why did he have to keep his old girlfriend happy?
But I pushed my unease aside and soon after, I told Stewart: ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too,’ he replied.
We had a lot of fun, going to the seaside and Center Parcs. One weekend we dressed up as Baby and Johnny from Dirty Dancing for a music festival.

After two years together, things were getting serious and we began talking about the future and where we wanted to live.
But before we made any decisions, I booked a trip home to Portugal to see my family and get a bit of winter sunshine.
Only as it approached, I was in two minds about it.
‘I don’t want to go,’ I fretted to Stewart.
‘Don’t be silly!’ he said, laughing.
So I packed my bags and Stewart took me to the airport.
‘I’ll pick you up when you get back,’ he promised.
‘Thanks, babe,’ I said, enjoying a last smooch before I boarded the plane.
When I stepped off again at the other end, the warm sun felt lovely on my skin and my sister threw her arms around me as soon as we met.
I missed my man but catching up with my loved ones made up for it.
When it was time to pack to go home, I thought of Stewart waiting for me. And I couldn’t wait to run into his arms next day.
I hugged my sister and headed off to bed.
But in the middle of the night I woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe.
I’d had a nightmare that left me gasping for air.
In my dream, I stood helplessly by as Stewart had sex with his ex!
It was like I’d witnessed him cheating and I lay there in the dark, trying to shake off the horrible images in my head of Stewart bonking someone else.
I watched it grow light, then picked up the phone and called him.
‘I had this awful dream…’ I cried, then told him the sleazy details.
But Stewart laughed off my panic.

‘It was just a dream,’ he soothed. ‘It doesn’t mean anything!’
‘Well, you swap texts with her when I’m there,’ I said, still reeling from the dream.
Stewart sighed wearily and said: ‘We’ll talk about it when I pick you up later.’
‘Don’t bother,’ I huffed. ‘I’ll make my own way home.’
As I travelled back, I couldn’t stop the sordid dreamscape playing on a loop in my head.
I touched down in the early hours and got a taxi back home to Hertfordshire.
‘Thanks,’ I yawned, tapping my card to pay my fare then climbing out with my case.
But while my car was where I’d left it, Stewart’s was nowhere to be seen.
If he wasn’t picking me up, he should be waiting up for me.
Pulling out my phone, I tapped out a text.
I’m home, where are you? I wrote.
There was no answer and I just fell asleep, exhausted. But next morning, there was still no Stewart.
I groped for my phone. There were no missed calls — and no reply to my text.
Now I really was on high alert. The images from my dream came flooding back and my stomach twisted in a knot of foreboding.
I couldn’t shake off the feeling that Stewart was playing away and I felt sick. It’s not called gut instinct for nothing.
Two whole days passed before he finally messaged me back. Then it was another week before I actually clapped eyes on him.
‘Did you have a good time?’ he asked, a bit too breezily.
‘Yes, apart from the dream I had,’ I said, glowering.
I watched him bristle, ready to tell me I was being silly again. But his nerve failed him.
He saw my face and knew I knew. Shifting from foot to foot, he couldn’t meet my eyes.
‘Come on, out with it,’ I demanded. ‘What have you been up to?’
He stared at the ground shiftily and admitted he’d slept with his ex — just like in my dream.
‘I knew it!’ I spat.
My sleeping mind and my gut were right. Stewart couldn’t be trusted and he’d grabbed his chance to cheat while I was away.

It still hit me like a ton of bricks, though.
‘I’ve never done it before!’ Stewart whined. ‘It was only that one time!’
As it all came tumbling out, he admitted that when I’d refused a lift home from the airport he’d simply gone to another one — where his ex was returning from her trip.
He’d taken her home and they’d dived into bed together. What a chancer!
All that guff about having to ‘calm her down’ was just a cover for her being his bit on the side.
And I’d seen it all play out in my dream — like a pornographic prophesy!
‘I’m so sorry,’ Stewart muttered, hanging his head.
The whole thing left me feeling so hurt and confused that I didn’t just dump him.
Instead, we limped on for a few more months until the on again, off again relationship was making me too miserable.
The trust was all gone and there was no hope for us. Stewart had shown what he was capable of and proved he didn’t love me after all.
Now I’m thinking of moving back to Portugal for a fresh start, far away from the man who betrayed me in his ex’s bed… and my dreaming head.
I thought Stewart was the man of my dreams, it turns out he was more of a nightmare.