Dear Sir, I dreamt of you last night.

Dear Sir,
I dreamt of you last night.

ekaterina yastrebova lovers

Art by Ekaterina Yastrebova

I have no idea who you are but the conversation we shared as I slept, in my dreams, was lovely. On waking I recall but snippets of the content but all of the associate energy. It was the kind of conversation generally held in business, pragmatic, evaluating risks and rewards, benefit statements – yet, we spoke of love.

You had asked me if I would love you. Not in the sense of immediacy associated with ‘hey, would you like to get out of here?’ but in the sense of ‘build something with me’. I have the sense this morning that something ancient ran through our words, surrounded them, infused them with deeper meaning and gravity.  My reply was measured, as in negotiations related to a contract – the greatest contract, the one where two people amplify each other, and in doing so their love expands the universal love that is filtered through the air we breathe and the stars that fall through ink black skies. I told you ‘it never occurred to me to think of you “like that” because I have worked with lots of intelligent men, piercingly handsome men, charming men who made everyone around them weak in the knees – except me’.

But here it was – logical. A question posed and a conversation following. No sweeping, Adrenalin fueled, rescue from epic adventures or courtship based upon glass slippers, letting down one’s hair from a turret or a single kiss to awaken from a sleep of a 100 years which determine the outcome every faerie tale instructing little girls and little boys how it will be when they meet and fall in love. No. You knew, and pressed your suit.

Emily Dickinson wrote, Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
I think it is better phrased as, Dawn makes up for mornings without you.

My days have never begun without you. You are experienced as the pre-dawn air stirs across my skin from the open window, your hands combing through my tangled curls coaxing them into submission. Your scent mingled with dew, grass, trees, the smote fire in the grate, seaweed and salt water, lashing rainstorms or snow gently falling. The heat of you, as the manifestation of the Sun, pressed against the cool alabaster of my body as manifestation of the Moon. Ying and Yang. Harmony and balance.

I have no picture of you from my dream. I could not tell if you are dark or fair, whether your eyes are blue, green or dark.  A girlfriend shared weeks, perhaps months ago, “you will know him from his smile”. Have I been manifesting you from Mary’s words? I have not a clue in all the universe of who you might be, yet, I felt the essence of your character, your physicality resonate with virile strength, I felt kindness and loyalty and, most of all, I felt safe. Was this a prophetic dream or a memory etched upon my soul from another lifetime?

Do you read this and wonder, what was my answer in this morphing of reality and subconsciousness? When we meet you shall have it.


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