I should have written notes on this this morning. I'd forgotten it at first. The content is trivial; I am just impressed by the strength of the feeling, which still persist.

I was kissing G---. It started simply then became consuming: all over that lovely face. We decide we need to go elsewhere to continue with more. We are in my bedroom as a child (a common location for my dreams): there's someone else in there too, god knows who, not anyone I particularly want to see what will come next.

But over to the north, through the big window, there is a kind of barrier amid the trees, perhaps a big black polythene sheet, but I check it out and it won't be enough to hide our doings. I take G--- down the path, between the rose bushes, intending to go round the front of the house.

If there was more it's gone now. But the passion stayed in waking. The sudden realization that someone loves you that much. And that softness.