November 18, 2007
So I had this dream..
It was a really good dream too, but really weird.
I had a dream that I was sleeping in my bed, as usual, and I woke up in the middle of the night to feel someone's breath on the back of my neck. I looked at my clock, and it read, quite clearly two-fifteen a.m. I could then feel someone's arm across my waist. I didn't recognize it, because I was more worried about why someone was sleeping next to me. I slowly rolled over, with my stomach flipping, horrified at whom it might be. I peered over as my eyes adjusted to the change of light, and saw an outline I recognized. I moved my head closer yet, so that my nose touched that of the person beside me. Andrew. He was right there. Next to me, with his arm around me. I smiled, and kissed his nose gently, then rolled back over. A sensation jumped through my whole body, as I felt his grip on me tighten, as though he was terrified of losing me within the dark, cold night. He didn't have to worry at all. I wouldn't leave him. Ever. Especially during the night with his arms around me, protecting me from everything that scares me. He's my protection, and my guardian. He's pretty much my everything. I rolled back onto my left side, and just laid there, staring at him; watching him sleep so peacefully next to me. He didn't stir, other than breathing, and his occasional pull. He kept pulling to make sure I was still there, and that I hadn't run from him yet. I silently whispered to him, as he slept, "I won't leave you. Ever. You don't have to worry, because you're my everything."
"I'm not worried. I just can't stop holding you closer, and feeling your heart beat against mine. It's the greatest feeling."
He opened his eyes, smiled, and softly kissed my lips. He pulled me closer, then watched me as my eyes slowly shut.
Then I became an onlooker. I was floating above us, watching him as he watched me sleep, and softly stroked my hair. A tear pricked at my eye as I watched his love flow from his fingers onto my hair, and from his lips to my forehead, as he would continually kiss it. Maybe it was some sort of assurance he wanted, needed, had, with me laying there next to him. The feel of my hair, the smell of me, the taste of my kiss, the feel of my skin, the look of my eyes, something. I know that I saw what I have been dying to see and hear, I saw that he cared so deeply about me. Why else would he just lay there, and watch me sleep? He wouldn't do that unless there was some reason behind it. I saw his gorgeous blue eyes shut, then I watched us. Sleeping, so silently in love. There was something there. A spark that kept growing strong as each second strolled past; as every minute swayed; as every hour flowed. It's been there since the beginning, and everyday it's grown stronger, brighter, hotter. It's grown so full of passion for each other, that all I want to do is stay right there: in his arms forever. His body against mine, feeling his heart beating, his fingers on my arms as he holds me, his hands on my waist, his lips against mine, his eyes looking down into my soul. There are feelings in this world that I thought I'd never feel. I never thought I'd feel butterflies all over my body when someone's scrubbing down: wearing sweats, a hoodie, glasses, and sandals.
"I wasn't trying to look good."
He doesn't realize that he can't help it. He doesn't realize that, no matter what, he always looks good to me.
Then I woke up. It was a crazy dream, as I forewarned. It was amazing though. Hearing myself narrate my own dream. I'm going now. I'm done ranting for today. We've been together for a month and ten days to date. It's the greatest feeling in the world: to be taken by someone who cares about you as much as you carea bout them. To be taken by someone who loves you even more in person, because they can look at you, and hold you tight. To be taken by someone who'll say, in the middle of a conversation: "I heart everything about you. There's nothing wrong." To be taken by someone who says Mrs. Pudge is beautiful, and he loves to poke her, hug her,a nd drive her crazy, because it's just like poking you, hugging you, or seeing you jump each time, because he knows he hit your sweet spot. To be taken by someone who thinks that you're gorgeous when you're wearing your over-sized hoodie, stupid slip-on shoes, and your hair is frizzy and curly and insane.
Mkaebye.
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