I've been having a lot of dreams lately. Surprisingly vivid dreams. But not scary. Not the kind of dreams I had when Mom died. These dreams are... Special. Every night when I go to bed I hope I'll have another one.
In the dream there's this girl. It's always the same girl. When I wake up in the morning it's hard to remember her face, but I know she's a redhead and she's just... beautiful. I find myself thinking about her during the day and my heart skips a beat. It's ridiculous; she's not even real. But I can't help thinking of her. I guess it's a way for me to escape from how things are here.
I head up to bed, and as I drift off I find my thoughts turning back to her. I know her name in the dreams, but when I'm awake I forget. Perhaps tonight will be different...
*
I know at once that I'm dreaming. It's the weird thing about these dreams; I know they aren't real, but at the same time it feels absolutely concrete.
So, I was thinking. It’s such a nice warm day and all that. Do-do you wanna go on a picnic with me?
( ... )
When she smiles it brightens up her face. It brightens up everything around me. If I were a total sap, which yeah I am, I’d say the world stops spinning for a moment and all that’s left is her and me. The world of course keeps spinning, which it would or we’d all fall off. Okay, so not the point
( ... )
She's invited me over to her place! I can't believe it. What's going on? Just enjoy it, I tell myself. This is a dream. I have so few opportunities to talk to pretty girls in real life, so I should make the most of this.
"Y-your place sounds, um, great," I said, smiling at her shyly. "I-I make quite good sandwiches. My dad always said so." About the only nice thing my father ever did say about me, but never mind. I don't need to think about him here, and that thought cheers me up immeasurably.
Then, somehow, we're walking along the street, and she's holding my hand. Oh, Goddess. This is just too perfect. I wonder if she can feel my heartbeat from next to me. It certainly seems to be beating loudly enough.
We walk across the threshold into her house. It seems somehow familiar, like I have been here before. I hesitate, not knowing whether to walk straight to the kitchen or to go into the living room.
Yay! My place it is! Okay, much of the calming down here, Wills. You’re not some kinda school girl with a huge crush. Yeah, okay, I guess I am at the moment. But come on, who wouldn’t be the girl of your dreams agrees to come home with you. When your parents are of the not there. Not that they’re ever there, but hey, not the point. And we’re both adults so there
( ... )
"T-tea would be nice," I say shyly. Willow bustles off, and this feels nice, safe, familiar. How is it familiar? I wish it was. But it's a dream, that's all.
Willow comes back with two steaming cups and passes one to me. I take a sip. It's raspberry and rosehip - my favourite. How did she know? I guess in this dream world she knows all about me. And how is it I can taste things, anyway? That isn't the usual thing in dreams.
Stop analysing everything, I tell myself. This dream is much better than real life, so enjoy it.
I decide I should listen to myself. I put my tea down on the coffee table and sit back on the sofa, smiling nervously at Willow.
”Tea it is then,” I smile at her and rush to the kitchen. Thank goodness she’s not like Giles, otherwise we’d still be here for hours. What with him and his tea-bags are sacrilege and you can’t use them, where is the real tea. Wes is so the same the few times I’ve seen him at…. Where did I see him? Uhm
( ... )
"Tea okay?" asks Willow, and she sounds as nervous as I feel, so I smile back and say:
"It's great, Will, my favourite." Tentatively I put my hand on her arm. "Th-thanks."
“Gosh you’re so pretty...and I said that out loud just now didn’t I?"
I feel my stomach fill with butterflies and I blush all the way up to my hairline. I can't think of the last time someone called me pretty. Well, I can... It was Mom. And that was a long time ago now.
"Thank you," I manage to say at last. "You're, you're pretty too." I didn't think it were possible, but I can feel my blush deepening. "I've always loved your hair," I add, reaching out and gently touching a stray lock, and then I find my hand brushing her cheek. The air in the room seems to get really still, like the whole world is drawing it's breath. It's a dream, I tell myself. So be brave!
And so, very slowly, I lean in towards her. She doesn't move away, and so, my heart pounding, I kiss her very softly on the lips.
Oh. Oh crap. Oh total crap I so didn’t mean to say that out loud. Nu uh, not me, but since this is a dream it doesn’t really matter does it? Cause this is a nice dream, where Tara and I are happy and she’s alive and I can still tell her how beautiful she is and I can touch her and feel her and… I don’t think I wanna wake up
( ... )
Willow kisses me. I can hardly believe that this is a dream, because it feels so real. Her mouth is warm and soft, and the feel of her tongue against mine makes me shiver. It feels so new, but also, strangely, familiar, as if I've done this before, somehow. I feel her fingers tangle in my hair and I run my palm down her cheek.
When I eventually draw back, I breathe out, a great shuddering sigh of amazement.
"This can't be a dream," I say without thinking, then clap a hand to my mouth. What if saying it makes me wake up? I don't want to wake up. Nothing in my real life is as good as this.
I’ve missed this. I’ve missed this so much. Yeah, sure there was Kennedy. But this, this was special. Tara was special. She was the one, she’ll always be the one. And that’s why others will never work.
Tara’s kisses are it, Tara’s touch is it, Tara’s words are it, Tara’s everything. And in this dream she’s real. In this dream I can once again pretend she’s still here. With me. Together. Seriously don’t ever wanna wake up.
When we pull back, my lips tingle with the need for more. My hands ache with the need to touch her. All of her. Roam my hands over her skin, my mouth, my lips, my tongue, … my eyes. I’m a little short of breath and a smile slides on my face when she insists this can’t be a dream either.
It is. I know it is. But it’s my friggen dream and I’m not about to wake up. Or wake her up.
“For now, this is real,” I whisper, taking her hand and bringing it to my mouth. Lips press into her palm, and my eyes close as I take in the memory. “I love you so much.” I miss you so much more.
“For now, this is real,” she says, and my heart jumps painfully in my chest as she presses her lips to my palm, my womb contracting with desire. Goddess. Goddess.
"I love you so much."
It's too much for me, and I feel a tear sliding down my cheek. No one has ever sounded so gentle, except my mother, and Mom has been dead for a year and I miss her so much. So, so much. And Willow... How can she not be real? I need her. I want to stay here forever.
"I love you too," I whisper in a choked voice, brushing my hand across her cheek. "So much."
I'm shocked to see her crying. She's not supposed to cry in my dreams. She's supposed to be happy and smiling and joking with me. Like we did when-- when all was still the way it should be. Should have been.
My own bottom lip starts to quiver at the sigh and I reach out to softly brush the tears away. "Please don't cry, sweetie," I whisper. "We're here, we have the here and now. We should make the most of it."
If these dreams is all we are going to get, then I want to wake up happy. Not sad because my Tara was crying. Swallowing hard, I manage a weak smile as I tuck a lock of her golden hair behind an ear. My hand comes up to cover the one she has on my face, turning it so I can kiss the palm. "So you wanna make out some more?" I ask shyly as the hair falls into my face and I glance at her from under my eyelashes
In the dream there's this girl. It's always the same girl. When I wake up in the morning it's hard to remember her face, but I know she's a redhead and she's just... beautiful. I find myself thinking about her during the day and my heart skips a beat. It's ridiculous; she's not even real. But I can't help thinking of her. I guess it's a way for me to escape from how things are here.
I head up to bed, and as I drift off I find my thoughts turning back to her. I know her name in the dreams, but when I'm awake I forget. Perhaps tonight will be different...
*
I know at once that I'm dreaming. It's the weird thing about these dreams; I know they aren't real, but at the same time it feels absolutely concrete.
So, I was thinking. It’s such a nice warm day and all that. Do-do you wanna go on a picnic with me? ( ... )
Reply
Reply
"Y-your place sounds, um, great," I said, smiling at her shyly. "I-I make quite good sandwiches. My dad always said so." About the only nice thing my father ever did say about me, but never mind. I don't need to think about him here, and that thought cheers me up immeasurably.
Then, somehow, we're walking along the street, and she's holding my hand. Oh, Goddess. This is just too perfect. I wonder if she can feel my heartbeat from next to me. It certainly seems to be beating loudly enough.
We walk across the threshold into her house. It seems somehow familiar, like I have been here before. I hesitate, not knowing whether to walk straight to the kitchen or to go into the living room.
Reply
Reply
Willow comes back with two steaming cups and passes one to me. I take a sip. It's raspberry and rosehip - my favourite. How did she know? I guess in this dream world she knows all about me. And how is it I can taste things, anyway? That isn't the usual thing in dreams.
Stop analysing everything, I tell myself. This dream is much better than real life, so enjoy it.
I decide I should listen to myself. I put my tea down on the coffee table and sit back on the sofa, smiling nervously at Willow.
Reply
Reply
"It's great, Will, my favourite." Tentatively I put my hand on her arm. "Th-thanks."
“Gosh you’re so pretty...and I said that out loud just now didn’t I?"
I feel my stomach fill with butterflies and I blush all the way up to my hairline. I can't think of the last time someone called me pretty. Well, I can... It was Mom. And that was a long time ago now.
"Thank you," I manage to say at last. "You're, you're pretty too." I didn't think it were possible, but I can feel my blush deepening. "I've always loved your hair," I add, reaching out and gently touching a stray lock, and then I find my hand brushing her cheek. The air in the room seems to get really still, like the whole world is drawing it's breath. It's a dream, I tell myself. So be brave!
And so, very slowly, I lean in towards her. She doesn't move away, and so, my heart pounding, I kiss her very softly on the lips.
Reply
Reply
When I eventually draw back, I breathe out, a great shuddering sigh of amazement.
"This can't be a dream," I say without thinking, then clap a hand to my mouth. What if saying it makes me wake up? I don't want to wake up. Nothing in my real life is as good as this.
Reply
Tara’s kisses are it, Tara’s touch is it, Tara’s words are it, Tara’s everything. And in this dream she’s real. In this dream I can once again pretend she’s still here. With me. Together. Seriously don’t ever wanna wake up.
When we pull back, my lips tingle with the need for more. My hands ache with the need to touch her. All of her. Roam my hands over her skin, my mouth, my lips, my tongue, … my eyes. I’m a little short of breath and a smile slides on my face when she insists this can’t be a dream either.
It is. I know it is. But it’s my friggen dream and I’m not about to wake up. Or wake her up.
“For now, this is real,” I whisper, taking her hand and bringing it to my mouth. Lips press into her palm, and my eyes close as I take in the memory. “I love you so much.” I miss you so much more.
Reply
"I love you so much."
It's too much for me, and I feel a tear sliding down my cheek. No one has ever sounded so gentle, except my mother, and Mom has been dead for a year and I miss her so much. So, so much. And Willow... How can she not be real? I need her. I want to stay here forever.
"I love you too," I whisper in a choked voice, brushing my hand across her cheek. "So much."
Reply
My own bottom lip starts to quiver at the sigh and I reach out to softly brush the tears away. "Please don't cry, sweetie," I whisper. "We're here, we have the here and now. We should make the most of it."
If these dreams is all we are going to get, then I want to wake up happy. Not sad because my Tara was crying. Swallowing hard, I manage a weak smile as I tuck a lock of her golden hair behind an ear. My hand comes up to cover the one she has on my face, turning it so I can kiss the palm. "So you wanna make out some more?" I ask shyly as the hair falls into my face and I glance at her from under my eyelashes
Reply
Leave a comment