Ananda

I had this dream—it was weird. We were going somewhere, me and my partner and there was this ticket thing but we couldn’t figure out how to use it. We kept pressing buttons and nothing worked. So we started having a disagreement on how to get through these barriers the ticket machine was connected to but we didn’t know so we left and then the next moment we were at home, our home, sitting on a windowsill by this full window. You know, the ones that open all the way and you can flip the handle to open it in two different styles. We had coffee. I was reading a book and my sweetheart was sitting and admiring me. Looking at me like a painting or something. There was music playing and it was raining. I kept peeking at them from behind my book, and each time they would act all coy and flustered. And then they started laughing and I put the book away and I pulled them towards me. Then they were sitting in front of me, legs crossed, holding my hands in their lap. We started talking about things—genuine things. Things I worry about that I don’t necessarily say—and they kept reassuring me and trying to make me feel better. They knew it wasn’t working because I kept looking down like I do when I’m ashamed, or embarrassed. They put their hand on my chin and stroked my cheek with their thumb and pushed my chin upwards so I was looking at them. They told me they loved me and kissed me. Then they pulled me by the hand upstairs and we had sex (fucking brilliant sex might I add) and we were laying there afterward. My prince on my chest, my arms wrapped around them, peaceful. And then this noise kept fading in and out. This really crackly noise. Like static, but then clear, then not. And it kept happening until I sighed and grabbed a baby monitor from the side. I flipped the covers up to get out, and they put them back on me and told you to go to sleep. I kissed them and they walked out the room. And then I wasn’t at home anymore. I was in this weird forest place. I walked, aimlessly, until I came to an opening and sat down in the center of the field. It was raining, and cold, and darkish. Like a December day at 4 PM. I started getting angry, but not anger angry. The, “I can’t express my upset and pain”-angry. And then they were there. Crouching behind me, arms around my neck, cheek to my cheek, and they told me I was OK. That everything was OK. That they loved me and I loved them and nothing else mattered. ♦