Remembering Her

Mary. Her name was Mary. I sat up in bed, my face drenched in sweat. I had just had the same dream I've had a million times. It's a cool spring day, and Mary and I were having a picnic out by the hill we named McArthur House for tired moles. It was a nice place to lay down and remember the times we had together. It always ended with a wrestling match and her on top of me. "Guess I win tough guy", she'd say before leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek. Just as her lips are about to caress my face, bathing me in her sweet strawberry lemonade lipstick, I would fall. When I hit the bottom, (yes, unlike other dreams I actually make it there) I am then struck in the face with a rock. That's when the dream ends and my boring, single reality begins. Today I sat up, expecting another humbling day of loveless torture, I remember: last night, the rain, the party, the couples dance. We made sweet love, love like no other, and as of today, I no longer sleep alone.