I Dreamed A Dream

Last night, I dreamed a dream.  In that dream there was a man, tall, dark and desperately handsome and of Spanish blood.  With a swimmers build and a dark Mediterranean complexion he first appeared across the way while I was buoying in a pool.  He caught my eye but I feigned an arrogant disinterest, until he walked around the pool to where I sat in the water and he stood over me.   He knelt down and, oh, oh so gently he kissed me.  I thought he was Adonis himself, Eros, the son of Aphrodite, goddess of Love.  He was possessed of such a beauty as to be utterly intoxicating...and I was so intoxicated with him.  I was aware that my head was swimming in the clouds and rather than invoke my  mind to employ reason and cast him away, I swam in those clouds, drunk with the beauty that he radiated.

And though the sun rose and night gave way to day and the dream evaporated back into the magical mist from which it was born, he, my Adonis, has walked with me all day in my thoughts.  So potent was his presence that it has not been easy to dispel.  It has been pleasant, though, to momentarily lapse into that special state where I again feel him bend over, blocking out the sun, to kneel and kiss me as if I, I alone had been set aside for him.  I had a highly productive day at work today, but it was a wonder I was able to accomplish anything, walking around in a hangover from his indelible beauty with his kiss still lingering on my lips.  I am a dreamer and this was the dream I dreamt.   At intermittent occasions my dreams favor me with a sensation or an impression that simply leaves me in a stupor that I selfishly indulge in and refuse to let go of.  I force myself into the halls of my memory and there I linger for as long as the Stewards permit.

At odd intervals in the day I have wondered could this god be real, this Spanish conqueror of my heart.  My mind then intrudes and bids me return to reality and know such a creature could not be real,  nor should I desire such a thing.  For in his presence I was obliterated by his beauty, I was simply an automaton standing at his side taking in every drop of him.  I suppose I enjoyed such a thing because life can be tired.  Often it is full of struggle and strain.  It can be good to have a small island of hope or destination of ease and luxury where the heart and soul can replinish its nature and regain strength.  I found such an island last night.  And though I know  my lover's presence will diminish as the days slip by and his beauty be but a fading impression,  I am thankful that I have found favor with the dream gods that I experienced such unerrying beauty.