I had a dream last night. I was lying in bed and this particular woman, whom I recognize, parallel from me, lay there as if benumbed to the chestnut colored blanket we shared. She scurried to me ever so slowly with complete stealth, as to go unnoticed, as if to runaway from the night's cold hoping to find shelter in the warmth of my body; however, in my dream, I did not recollect the night air diminished to the point of shivers, nor elevated to the point of perspiration- it was, for lack of a better word, perfect (I shall leave the interpretation up to you).
Perfect. What can truly be perfect? I hate that word sometimes. Especially in this context because that moment and everything in it was perfect. We shared thoughts and knew where we wanted to be- right next to each other . She wrapped her left arm over my body as I tucked my left arm under her head and then the sweetest moment happened.. She placed her right hand on my chest, turned her face with eyes closed, and rested her ears upon my heart. She smirked. She began to listen. She tried to match the beating heart with hers as if that were possible. It was indeed romantic.
It was perfect. Oh how I hate that word with a passion right now. Why? Because in that moment, 3/4 of my mind lay ignorantly in blissful subconscious thought while the other quarter wages a war cry: "DON'T WAKE UP TO REALITY. PLEASE DON'T WAKE UP."
The tragedy in all of this is knowing that within your dream you begin to know you are dreaming. That's when the inevitable happens- you wake up.
To myself: Get a hold of yourself and drink a coffee or, as Justin Timberlake once said, go "cry me a river 'cause she's gone *hit falsettos here*"
To that woman: are you listening?
Probably not.
LOL
ReplyDeleteoh lord have mercy.