In love with a dream
I had a dream last night that left me feeling sombre. The subject matter was the tender warmth I came to bear towards this girl. Her sparkling eyes, her strong and flowing movements, her challenging and boldly teasing smiles.. Her feeling in my arms as we swayed side to side, more as an excuse to hug in public than in a dance.
I want to feel it all again.
The mass, the warmth, the softness of the body curled up against my chest, the cuteness of the touch.
A dream more vivid than I’ve ever had before. I want it to come back to haunt me and let me see her once again.
The way she talked, the way she acted, immersed in cosplay her radiating frame.. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, my world infected and changing by her sheer imagination and her skill.
And though I wish to see – to feel – that dream once more I find myself thinking other silent prayers to all the higher powers (in which existence I find it hard to put my faith) that there’s no one on earth quite like her, at least not anywhere that we might actually meet, for fear my sipping tea with Aslan time might come to an abrupt end and leave me no excuses.
Let her be a dream. A dream so sweet the morning’s full of sorrow. A dream that comes to visit more than once again. My dream, my wrenching little secret, a guilty pleasure that I’ll never get to really feel.









