The Dream

I awoke slowly, my consciousness rising like an air bubble through a subconscious fog thick as molasses.  First my limbs began to tingle followed by a fluttering of my eyelids and finally ending in clearly formed thought. A smile spreads wide and languidly across my face as I fight to hold on to every sensation.  Though my eyes remain closed I know my room is dark and still.  It must be the middle of the night. My dog remains deep in sleep at my side, undisturbed by my midnight vigil.

He was cradled safely into my side, I could feel his strong hand holding mine and his head nestled like a puzzle piece under my chin. But no...that’s my own hand tucked into myself, I can clearly distinguish dream from reality as the pressure of him holding me begins to fade into memory. Can you have a memory of something that has never happened? 

I feel myself physically drawn to him although it is not a passionate hold we are in.  It is somehow complete attraction filled with perfect chastity. It is calming, peaceful and imbued with happiness...contentment. It is the definition of contentment. Two souls at complete rest in each other.

He is familiar to me. I dream of him periodically, most often he is pointing out where I can improve or something I have failed to do. His is a voice not void of care but forever testing, as if to root out any impurities held within the depths of my character.  But sometimes...sometimes it is all gentleness. I am never surprised by the judgmental dreams, I always feel as though I do not score well under his scrutiny. But these dreams, the quiet and beautiful ones, they always catch me off guard. 

Usually there aren’t many details. I wake remembering the sound of his voice, a reassuring look and always the comforting touch of his hand in mine. 

This time is different. The narrative ran longer and was more rich in detail. 

I stepped out of a building and as I looked up into the night sky I felt him walk up and stop beside me. I was watching lightning flash inside boiling and distant thunderclouds. Tracing with my eyes the outline of the light ripping a great seam in the ether and cutting through the thin veil of clouds. So powerful and yet so delicate. My focus shifted as I realized he was speaking to me and in vain I strained to comprehend the last lines of what he was saying, something about being frustrated with the games that were being played inside. 

I think that was it, I attempt a response. 

‘Closer or further...I always like playing that game.’, my eyes have not left the symphony of light playing out above us and I feel Him shift his gaze upward beside me. ‘I never get tired of that either.’, he replies softly, ‘even if the storm is very close it still doesn’t scare me.’ I remain silent for a moment unwilling to admit that I feel fear if the storm clouds are close by. 

I think if he is not afraid then maybe I don’t need to be either. ‘Closer’, I whisper as a giant bolt streaks across the night, ‘further’, he replies as small echos of light illuminate the cotton ball outline of clouds.

We move as if in unison, laying side by side on the gravel of the parking lot. There’s a better view from that perspective. Somewhere in the middle of our independent and yet unified reverie his hand finds its way to mine and envelopes it quietly, securely and with an unexplained assurance. We don’t address the change, we both accept it as though it were an expected end and a long awaited beginning. 

Rain begins to fall steadily. A welcome cold to quiet any building heat. We do not move, we are moved by the water that now flows around us. We are two entwined branches living and yet unable, no...unwilling to move. The current grows stronger and we begin to shift into one another. He is curled into me, his head tucked under my chin as I gently kiss his forehead. I am his comfort and his hand holding my own is my source of strength.

We are content. 

I feel the blood flowing into my fingers, the heat circulating through my veins. I know I am waking before I wake.