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Dream Man Dean
Last night was a perfect and painful dream.
How could it possibly both things? Easily.
Every now and then I have special dreams. Those that are more vivid, feeling, smelling, seeing more than what you would in a normal dream. These are dreams I try hard to hang on to unconsciously, but it seems the more you grasp them, the more it slips through your fingers. So I try to consciously relax and hope that I don't scare it off.
I won't go into too much detail because most of it doesn't make logical sense as is the nature of dreams, and would be even worse if I tried to explain it to you, dear reader. I can say there were many interesting aspects, I remember having fun, I remember amusement park type entertainment, but I also remember a darker but vivid colored environment, like when it's overcast outside but the colors seem strangely brighter.
Towards the end, I met up with a man I called by name. His name was Dean. Strangely when I try to remember his face, all I see are flashes of light hair, masculine lines, and what I remember most, his beautiful hands. There was nothing sexual mind you, however there was an obvious connection, like we'd known each other forever, and he came to me in my dream in melancholy- over what I am not sure I ever really found out. But I remember clearly standing facing him, with our heads bowed and foreheads touching, my hands and his entertwined between us. A touch of desperation in his voice....
.....then I lost him to my alarm clock.
What's worse is that in a really weird way I miss him. I feel so sad that I couldn't spend more time with him. But he's "only" a dream. What a conflict.
The irony is everywhere. My ideal man is literally a dream man. Has it really come to this?? Unfortunate that I'll probably never meet him again.
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