Last night I had a dream; I was still hiding out from the snake in my house so I spent the night on a different sofa in a different house.
It was one of those dreams so real and so vivid that you knew it had to be happening in your awake life simply because every nerve ending in your body was responding to it.
It started with the simplest of gestures and your response of “you don’t hear me complaining do you?”
The single lighted match that ignited a nighttime tryst buried in my subconscious.
I know part of the dream involved what I was hearing on the television, we were in an old house with antiques all around us. It was lovely Victorian Era surroundings. Perfect for the dream I was having.
We were there together, other people were around, although not with us.
And then it happened.
I won’t say what it was, it really doesn’t matter to anyone but me. It was what I saw in my mind. That thing that crept out of my own longings while my guard was down.
When I woke up, I was sad. It had only been real in my heart.
Maybe it was respite from the crazy happenings of the last little while. For it allowed me to be in that place I desire to be and yet I am afraid to ask for.