I dreamed of his
kisses. Hundreds and hundreds of kisses, soft and slow, lingering on lips riddled with smiles, they were so happy to be involved in the act of kissing. I cringed this morning when I saw a couple kissing on
television, because it brought back the dream and made me sad with the faded
memory of kisses.
I dreamed of
revolution in the old French style, with
battle hymns in cafes. I dreamed of walking into a darkened cafe. I saw
shadows moving within and knew it was occupied and therefore potentially
dangerous, but whoever I was with was bumbling and clumsy and did not realize this. We walked into the
cafe and I declared who I was and was then suddenly surrounded by friends who had been hiding in case it was us who were the threat. Somehow it made me incredibly happy that I could call my name out into a room and have everyone know who I was and come to my side. Maybe I watched too many episodes of
Cheers when I was little. Or maybe I'm just a little
lonely, and that much warmth is a waking dream of mine as well. He was there in the cafe, and he came to me with embraces. We laid down before a
window and watched the scene on the street for hours, cuddled up in blankets and each other.
Then I dreamed of
a planet without water, and in this dream I was a
superhero traveling across the dimensions to raid other people's vending machines for
soda.
... So the
night got a little sillier as it wore on.