Blessed to Dream of Love

I dreamt of a big calm man, and how we loved each other. We walked and talked along a promenade at the seashore. We laughed. We held hands at times. Once, suddenly, he took my earlobe thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. Later, he felt the bones of my wrist with his fingertips, briefly, as we talked. I rubbed his back for a moment, smoothing his sweater. We sat on a bench. He crossed his legs. I touched and felt the round smooth bone at his bare ankle. He showed me a small tattoo I had never noticed before. We kept on talking, serious, calm and loving. We walked to our serene sunlit home. A quiet maid, elderly and uniformed, had rearranged furniture around a fireplace in the bedroom. She had placed a bowl of fruit and a vase of peonies on a table, with books. She glanced at us kindly then disappeared. We rested in love.

I woke up to the reality of the years in the bathroom mirror and gave thanks to God that my life has been such that I have many beautiful images in my mind, and for blessing me with sweet dreams of love.