Dreams (Part 2)

My feet are made of lead as I climb the stairs, are there really all that many?  I feel like this is my climb to the summit of Everest.  After what seems like days on those stairs, I reach the door, I can feel the electric tingle of apprehension on my knuckles as I reach up to knock.  My heart races and my mind blanks.  I sweat despite the cold.  My lips and mouth go bone dry, while my palms instantly turn into Niagara Falls. 

--Knock—Knock—Knock--
The sound surprises me at its sharpness and definity: there is no going back now.

The door swings open noiselessly, a bit too sudden, as if she were standing right behind it just as I knocked. There is a moment of pure and utter confusion before the recognition hits.  We collide into each other’s arms, apprehensions and fears long gone with the arrival her warmth and softness against my freezing, clammy body.  She takes my hand and wordlessly leads me inside the apartment, I barely notice the furniture as she tenderly slips my pack off and stands back to appraise me.  Imagine what it might feel like catch a glimpse of happiness embodied as a person, and that’s what she was to me at that moment.  Roan brown hair reaching to just past her shoulders, soft features radiating warmth and love.  Her eyes traced my arms, legs, hair, chest as I stepped towards her.

“hello” escaped her lips just barely above a whisper

Slowly, as if frightened at her own daring and fearing my retribution, her hand came up to touch the edge of my jaw, running her fingers down the line of my beard and across my throat, where I know she could feel the hammering of my pulse.  Her other hand, embolded by the actions of the first came to comb through my wet tousled hair then came to rest on the nape of my neck whilst the other explored the breadth of my shoulders and width of my arm.  Our eyes stayed locked as my hands went to her hips, and all at once, I felt the subtle, yearning pull of her hands, and the strong yet gentle guidance of my hands on her hips as we met for that first kiss.  She shivers slightly, and I can feel her lips move to a smile as we kiss.  She deftly puts her hands on my chest and we separate.  Her eyes smile as my heart dances.  Fatigue and desire overcome me simultaneously, and I move towards her again, and caress her face with mine, the hairs of my beard soliciting tingling shivers She touches her hand to my face, lightly going over the harsh contours of my cheek, eyebrows, nose, and forehead.  My consciousness slips between waking and slumber, my ears prick and mull the blare of my alarm clock beckoning the new day.  I fight the racing dawn, unwilling to relinquish my hold on this bliss, but the scene is fading faster than my blush and I know its time to leave.  Like a symphony drowning out a din of wails or an angelic call to horn, my eyes open and i'm left with only parting wisps of my illusion.  The last we both hear of each other, of this perfect little world we have built the two of us together, the last vestige of ecstasy and content happiness comes in hushed whispers and tones of intangible emotion and affection.

--I love you--

From neither

From both

From lips

From hearts

To minds

To bodies
       
Mine
           
Yours

    Never

        Always…

Mio sogno bello

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you didn’t know what you wanted it to be?  Like you want it to come true on some level, but on another, you’re afraid of what would happen if it does?  It doesn’t have to be anything special or even anything meaningful, if could simply be that you see yourself drinking a milkshake when you know you’re lactose intolerant: you want that shake so much, but you don’t want to lose that part of yourself that makes you unique.  Maybe dreams and visions like those are meant to be pondered on, examined, thought of, dreamt of, but not necessarily made into fruition.  Some people certainly think they’re dangerous and challenge the status quo of acceptability too much to be right.  Others feel that all dreams, miniscule or grandeur are meant to come true, like the little mermaid who dared to walk on dry land, or the elephant that dared to fly.  Whatever the imagination, only one thing can be sure.  The fragile bond that ties us to this world and anchors us to reality can easily and readily be slipped and evaded if only for a brief glimpse into what may have been, should have been, or maybe for those lucky few, what will be.