She spoke of a dream...a dream that belonged to me...and said it was reality.
There are no words that I can string together or images I can conjure up; there is absolutely nothing I can do to recreate or to convey to you tonight's event. Besides, I'd hardly call it that. "Event" is so "matter of fact" and concrete. What occurred after hours while we sat in the wicker chairs inhaling the stale air, exhaling the cigarette smoke, was something so profound that the constraints of human Time could not tame. Sure, the sentences formed and the meaning behind the intention of an explanation were fleeting but the sensation remained. The point I am trying to make is...It isn't always logical. It's not always about understanding why or how but about accepting that it just is. It's about relinquishing that desire of control, the craving for an all knowing intelligence. She stripped me, saw my core and remained sitting beside me in complete trance as we both bared our souls. This is a story of how one spirit awoke another from a coma only to have the favor returned. The others watched in confusion trying desperately to make sense of the tension. But, that's what we tried to explain only able to dance circles around it: it doesn't make sense yet it was utterably undeniable. Intense.