With Ice Cream
February 26th, 2008
i had this dream last night. in this dream everything was right. it was so believable and so comfortable and so perfectly indestructible. when i woke up, i was alone. i grasped the pillow next to mine and pretended i was holding his hand. then i fell back into sleep and – to my delight – resumed my dream, though not exactly where i left off. in this dream, he talked to me the way he would talk to me, but also in a way that he wouldn’t. he touched my hair in a way i’ve never known. there was this buzz and this high. the smell of white and the crunch of gravel. he loved me and i loved him too.
Entry Filed under: Unsent Letters
