If I write about my dreams. Will they come true ?
In my dreams they will. Which is somewhat recursive, but it;s the best I can do right now.
It's not one of my usual dreams, no technical background, no circuit diagrams, no infinite chessboard and no endless face of the darkness to move upon.
At the start I'm not even sure it is a dream. I'm sat at my keyboard, at work. The office lights dim and the sound of fans blurring the air into a tangled mass of low intensity white noise. Soft as powdered snow, a noise that eats up other sounds.
Typing, watching the green on green symbols drift across my screen. Each keystroke adding just a little to the world on the other side of the glass.
Pause.
Someone is stood behind me, someone I know well enough to identify without sight or sound.
Someone I know by scent and by the pressure they exert the space around them.
My heartbeat speeds up, for this is someone I care for a lot, someone with whom I wish I could become close, very very close indeed.
She stands behind me, one hand resting lightly on each of my shoulders. The bright red of her long dress reflected in the dark patches of my monitors.
A long moment passes, we smile at each other's reflections.
Then without warning, but with the smooth grace that initially drew my eye towards her she bends, drops a single soft kiss on the back of my neck and steps away.
By the time I have recovered from the surprise and turned, a questioning look on my face, she has gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
I cannot help but think that that was a kiss goodbye.
It's not one of my usual dreams, no technical background, no circuit diagrams, no infinite chessboard and no endless face of the darkness to move upon.
At the start I'm not even sure it is a dream. I'm sat at my keyboard, at work. The office lights dim and the sound of fans blurring the air into a tangled mass of low intensity white noise. Soft as powdered snow, a noise that eats up other sounds.
Typing, watching the green on green symbols drift across my screen. Each keystroke adding just a little to the world on the other side of the glass.
Pause.
Someone is stood behind me, someone I know well enough to identify without sight or sound.
Someone I know by scent and by the pressure they exert the space around them.
My heartbeat speeds up, for this is someone I care for a lot, someone with whom I wish I could become close, very very close indeed.
She stands behind me, one hand resting lightly on each of my shoulders. The bright red of her long dress reflected in the dark patches of my monitors.
A long moment passes, we smile at each other's reflections.
Then without warning, but with the smooth grace that initially drew my eye towards her she bends, drops a single soft kiss on the back of my neck and steps away.
By the time I have recovered from the surprise and turned, a questioning look on my face, she has gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
I cannot help but think that that was a kiss goodbye.