You haunted my dreams again last night. In a beautiful way. In a way that seems to happen at least once a week for as long as I can remember. In a way that makes me want to never sleep again or forever stay in my dreams.
It felt so real. I could feel you, I could hear your voice, I could smell your familiar scent.
In this dream, I awoke in a bed. I stretched deeply, a smile on my sunshine-exposed face. Then I opened my eyes, confused because the surroundings were familiar, but it wasn’t my room. I got out of bed and opened the door to find myself in the hallway of your house. You were bent over, completing some sort of task that you seemed fully engrossed in, unaware of my presence. That glimpse of you shook me. I backed away, retreated into the room I had just left. Unable to hold myself together anymore, I backed into a wall, then promptly slumped into myself. Knees touching my chest, I sobbed deeply. Fighting myself for air, it felt as though I’d never catch my breath again. I didn’t hear the creaking of your footsteps approaching. But I did feel when your shoulder slide into place next to mine. I did smell you. Suddenly, I felt calm. I stopped crying. I stilled. Then I melted. I laid my head on your shoulder. You laid your head atop mine. It was quiet for a few moments. Until, softly, you spoke: “This is the part where you convince me this is a good idea.”
When I woke up, I knew that you would continue to haunt me for days, but it didn’t make me sad like the thought used to.
It just reminded me that it was real. So real. And it served as a reminder that a part of me will live in those moments with you forever.