This actual-dream is in my fictionalized novel, Dream Knights, but here it is just as I perceived and wrote it out while everything was still fresh. No need to comment unless you feel compelled to do so; consider it as me trying to pass along an indescribably precious gift.
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Like the soft yet radiant glow of distant heavens brought close, she is here. As I lie prone upon my bed staring up at her, so she hovers above me like a reflection, though infinitely more divine. Flowing long hair stirred by ether’s movements, flowing gown nebulous. Gentle, curious expression considering me. I wait with breath, heartbeat, soul held still.
A slight smile touches her lips. Amusement? Understanding at my wonder? Fondness? With grace, she opens her arms and her gown grows with her reach, unfurling like a ship’s sail in some long forgotten silent film. Then, my existence tilts.
Disoriented near to panic, I struggle to understand: is the entirety of my world rotating or only the two of us? It matters not. She settles onto my bed, arms still spread, glowing hair fanned across my pillow. Now I am hovering above her, and it is her turn to wait.
Slowly, I sink toward her, toward her expectant smile. I long to curl up and nestle, to rest upon her bosom. Though as my skin touches hers, something far more profound happens. I drift to her and then into her, and into new awareness. I feel her, her welcome and her confidence, thoughts coming like a soothing heartbeat. And underneath those, her hopes. And her love.
If awaking means leaving this moment, then please let me never wake.
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Like the soft yet radiant glow of distant heavens brought close, she is here. As I lie prone upon my bed staring up at her, so she hovers above me like a reflection, though infinitely more divine. Flowing long hair stirred by ether’s movements, flowing gown nebulous. Gentle, curious expression considering me. I wait with breath, heartbeat, soul held still.
A slight smile touches her lips. Amusement? Understanding at my wonder? Fondness? With grace, she opens her arms and her gown grows with her reach, unfurling like a ship’s sail in some long forgotten silent film. Then, my existence tilts.
Disoriented near to panic, I struggle to understand: is the entirety of my world rotating or only the two of us? It matters not. She settles onto my bed, arms still spread, glowing hair fanned across my pillow. Now I am hovering above her, and it is her turn to wait.
Slowly, I sink toward her, toward her expectant smile. I long to curl up and nestle, to rest upon her bosom. Though as my skin touches hers, something far more profound happens. I drift to her and then into her, and into new awareness. I feel her, her welcome and her confidence, thoughts coming like a soothing heartbeat. And underneath those, her hopes. And her love.
If awaking means leaving this moment, then please let me never wake.