One Hundred Letters for James

013

013:

Dreaming

In my world, James, there is a very thin line between wanting and needing. And I guess that's what happened with you.

There were the times where I would have short, infuriating dreams about you, about your hair, about your eyes, and they were confusing dreams. They were just dreams until that day in November, the year we graduated. You had slept over that evening because your mom was out of town and didn't trust you on your own. She told you that you had to sleep over at my apartment, which I was fine with, since we would have been hanging out anyway.

"Kathleen?" You had whispered in my ear, jolting me awake.

"Yea?" I'd responded groggily.

"Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

"I do?"

"Yea."

"What do I say?'

"Well, you said my name a few times, and then you said your name, and I think that's it." I felt a blush rise to my cheeks when you mentioned me saying your name. "No, don't be embarrassed," You said, turning on to your back and re-wrapping the covers around yourself. "I have dreams about you too."

And that's when wanting turned into needing.