Big F**king Mood: A New Narrative

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The first time I realized you could feel dreams, I was dreaming of you. It was something so simple. So easy.

   You kissed me.

   Not a crazy, burning, passionate kiss. Just a regular kiss. It was slow, hesitant. Full of nervous energy. It was sweet and gentle. When I woke up, I could still feel it as if it really happened. As if it ever could.

   And then again you appeared in my dreams. This time it was a hug, and I woke to the ghost feeling of your arms wrapped around me. I could feel the natural warmth that your body radiates. I could feel the swell of emotion that accompanies the feeling of being touched, being loved, by somebody you've always wanted.

   I think I nearly cried that morning.

   Another night, and all my dreams were only you. Us walking together. Us eating together. Taking in the sights of a city I didn't recognize. Talking. Being close to one another without nervously apologizing for being in each other's space and moving away, even though the only thing I want is to get closer. Our arms brushing each other's as we absentmindedly stroll down an unknown street, watching the sun go down. Or maybe it's rising. I can usually tell but I think I was too busy marveling at the fact that you were actually beside me to really pay attention to anything else.

   When I woke up that day, I don't think I spoke or moved for what felt like hours. I was desperately trying to get back into that dream, into that world where You and I were something real. The emptiness in my chest felt so much deeper that deeper that day.

   And then lastly, last night, again something so innocent yet precious that I can still feel it even as I write this out.

   You held my hand. We were talking, and you grabbed my hand. I'm not even sure you knew you did it. And then you had to go, and you got up to leave, but your hand lingered in mine. You pulled your hand away so slowly, our fingertips still reaching for each other even as you finally started to walk away.

   Maybe this affected me so much worse because I've actually held your hand in mine before. Only for the most common of reasons, a handshake, but the fact remains that I know what it feels like to hold hands with you, even for a few seconds. This I can accurately dream up and know is real. This I know is as good as it feels in my head.

   Feeling the ghost imprint of your hand on mine will torture me for the rest of the day. But it's a torture I'd gladly take, for who knows when I will get to see you again.

- i wonder if my memory got you right