The most beautiful dream.

This is a portion of a dream I just had. I would write the whole thing, but it would be far too long and this is the only interesting part. To me, anyway.

My only hope is that my writing skill is adequate to convey the beauty of this dream, but I fear it is not. Here is my best shot.
I just had the most beautiful dream about you. And no it wasn't about sex, before you say so.

What was it about, then?

It's complex. It was actually a dream inside a dream. I can't remember much else except for your scene, though.

Well come on, tell me about it!

I am sitting in some kind of theater, and everything is completely white. Or maybe grey is a better discription. Like I said, everything is white, but it's kind of dim and fuzzy, so things look a bit grey. There are no chairs, no walls, no nothing except the fuzziness and the grey, but I know I'm in a theater. I know that on the stage below me is an ice rink. This is where you come in.

I start to hear music. The invisible audience is silent. They never breathe, they never move, they just observe and listen. A lone guitar is playing. I feel like I could play you the song, but I can't remember the tune. All I do know is that it is pure. There is no other noise. Only the slow picking of the guitar. There is no longer a distinction between me and the audience. Everyone is the same. We are all mesmerized by the music. It is the one solitary occupation of our minds.

We have heard only a few notes, but it seems like a very long time. In our musical trance, we look towards the ice. There is a glow in the distance. Everything is still fuzzy, but we see the outline of a skater. It is you. In a dark outfit. Somehow being carried to us from an infinite distance. You get closer, the glow gets brighter, and our vision slowly clears. At the very moment before we reach clarity, you leap from your chariot, and now there are two elements in our world. In the grey void there is the music, and a spot of light that is you.

A last moment of silence and stillness as you pose and the guitar pauses, and your dance begins. You are liquid motion. You curve, you twirl. You flow. It's as if you are not moving in space, like the ice is moving under you, the bright spot in the void.

You move for a long time, but of course not long enough. We feel the music nearing its end, and we sense your motion losing its momentum. You slow, you slow, you stop. The final note plays and you hold your closing pose, and the fade returns. Your spot of white in the grey starts to blur and get darker, and eventually dissapears into the void. All we can do is remember now.