(no subject)
I wrote this once:
"Last night I dreamed that I kissed a boy. And it was a wonderful boy and a wonderful kiss, and I can't shake the boy or the kiss from my thoughts, not at all, not even hours after waking, not in the slightest bit."
Months and months later, I still catch glimpses of that dream, of that feeling, and I've kissed that boy for real since then, and it was almost as good as the dream - because nothing can ever be as good as a dream, or can it? - and it makes me smile just thinking about it, his kiss in my dreams and his kiss on my lips, and I suppose that dreams can come true, in some small ways, in some small times.
"Last night I dreamed that I kissed a boy. And it was a wonderful boy and a wonderful kiss, and I can't shake the boy or the kiss from my thoughts, not at all, not even hours after waking, not in the slightest bit."
Months and months later, I still catch glimpses of that dream, of that feeling, and I've kissed that boy for real since then, and it was almost as good as the dream - because nothing can ever be as good as a dream, or can it? - and it makes me smile just thinking about it, his kiss in my dreams and his kiss on my lips, and I suppose that dreams can come true, in some small ways, in some small times.