Dream After Dream of You

I saw her again. My real-life dream had never been over, even after close to forty years apart. Now, I dream of her again, night after night. It is almost the same dream, with a few variations, such as the colour of her hair and nail polish. Sometimes, they are blue, my favourite colour, and sometimes they are green, her favourite colour and my treasured second.

Her blue or green hair makes me smile at first before I become captivated and full of love. These colours of her nail polish remain strange, except when she paints them white; a nail colour that makes me even more hot for her, and she never remains cold, unlike the Rolling Stones song. I am so hot for her and she knows it, both in her mind and chest.

Buy why am I dreaming of her, when I am finally able to see her? I suspect that my unconscious has a lot to awaken and recover from our long-ago past, perhaps eager to amalgamate it with the present and a potential future. She knows that I love her, but she only completely reciprocates in my nightly dreams, not yet in reality, where she misses me too.

The dream always starts with her at my door, entering as I open it, with a loving smile and allowing me to take off her clothes, except for her blue panties, which can also be green. I gather her clothes in one hand and kiss her for as long as she lets me; usually a few seconds of happiness. My dream — most dreams, really — can sometimes resemble reality.

I lead her with my other hand to the bedroom where she removes my blue-and-white comforter and slips under the green-and-white sheets, waiting for me to take her panties off. I feel overwhelmed by her skin when I lie next to her, promising myself to cover her from head to toes with kisses and other signs of love. She purrs and I continue to melt within.

I remove her panties, holding them in my mouth like a prize, which I had won in our past and again now, finally. She takes it from my mouth and kisses me for many seconds of happiness. I suddenly begin to sing, You Can't Always Get What You Want; another Rolling Stones song. She tells me that she likes my singing, as my hands caress her body with passion.

My love and lust for her commingle in waves, which begin as ripples centred around her breasts. I always awake after kissing her left one, as I am unable to reach her right, as if they are political. My switch from the insane Left to the conventional Right is translated thus in my dream. I surmise that it occurs on account of her still being in the Left.

Luckily, she is waking up to the truth of the Right and the disgusting and murderous lies of the Left, which may be another dream, but a waking one at that. I love her again in reality and get the chance to love her again and again in my dream night after night. Happiness has returned to my life in both realms of the same existence. I love her.