... Sends ripples through the fabric of the dreaming, and with each ripple a new image begins to coalesce.
I see her, and she sees me. We know not how we are in proximity - only that we are here, and that we are here now.
We talk. We eat, and we talk some more. Familiarity burns like an incandescent grapevine that writhes and envelops the spine, conveying the warmth of memories long-thought forgotten, and the hot pulses of passion and affection that accompany it.
Her hair. Her face. A halo glows around her silhouette. It's as though she hasn't aged a day since we last met. My dream-eyes sunder the image and burn it indelibly into memory.
You ask me whether I've been seeing anyone these past years. "No," I reply, and think to myself - "because I never forgot you". But the beauty and delicacy of the moment still my tongue.
It's cold suddenly. The warm, quilted sheets of my apartment (what apartment?) beckon. Clothed, we climb in like old lovers.
"C'mere," I murmur. She responds.
We embrace like old lovers. We do not lust, but revel in the honesty of true-born emotion. The aroma of spring flowers fills me as she presses close. I wish I never had to leave.
I wake, bittersweet, but caressed also by a sprinkling of wonder... and somehow, of faith.
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