I dreamed of you again. Your hands and your skin. I dreamed of the roughened bits on your palm and your strong fingers. I dreamed of the smell of you that comes from work and sun and the perfume of you. I dreamed of the muscles of your back and the coolness when the fan beats over us and the air is heavy.
For a long time I stopped dreaming. And still you touched my flesh and waited for it to respond. Your patience annoyed me and I used it as some kind of barrier between us. I hated every little thing about you and wanted to slap you away.
But now all my dreams are of you and the nights when the airconditioner rattled and smelled sweet and green. When the dampness of my body stuck to the dampness of your body and all the dreams we had were in that room.
Your pillow is empty and when I reach out over the sheets it's only coolness there in the middle of the night. And you would think that that would make me sad this big emptiness where you should be.
But I can't be sad because you are there in my dreams again and the fan is beating down over us. And my skin is like my skin used to be, when it only seemed to belong to you; and even though the darkness is laughing at me I am laughing too.
Because I have spent my whole life terrified of the dark and being alone. Of all the big emptiness. But tonight I am not afraid, because I dreamed of you again.