I hope she dreams of him too…

An old friend came to visit me yesterday. A sunny afternoon welcome her. We sat outside, enjoying the sun the whole afternoon, starving for the sun after a very long and tough winter, talking about the old days when they used to share an office. I talked about my love. About the old days when we used to work the three of us together. My friend, my love and me on the same project, sharing our days. Everyday for two years long. I had my eyes wide open, sparkling under the sun, when I talked about him. My energy was overflowing. My enthusiasm was bursting. I mentioned his name in drunkenness. Without any alcohol drink. My excitement was free. The sun posed its warmth on my skin. A feeling of a feather. No more no less. I absorbed the sun and sent it back into words. Words of love. My friend looked at me. She said she had never seen me like that. I repeated again and again. A thousand of times. He is the best. He is great. I love him. No matter how. No matter what. My friend ordered a third glass of wine. She drank for me. For both of us. In my limitless love. In my unconditional love. She wished me the best. And said cheers to me. She said that he was different. He was like nobody else. And probably that was why I fell deeply in love with him. More sun caressed my face. I closed my eyes one second. Enough time to see him there. Moments like that I understood the deep meaning of love and eternity. One second of silence between me and the sun and him. The world was in order. I was untouchable. Unbreakable. Invincible.

My friend said that she would probably dream of him at night too. Because I talked so much about him. For me dreaming of him was sure thing. No night is different from the others. Every night I dream of him. No matter how I had spent my day. At two in the morning, his mail arrived. I saw it and jumped like a kid on the couch. I shouted out of happiness. My friend laughed out loud. I was still jumping on the couch. And shouted: I love him. Don’t you see it.

I said good night to my friend, went to bed. Listened to his song. My favorite one ever. A whiter shade of pale of Procol Harum. I closed my eyes. Slowly. “Would you dance with me on this song, my love?”. That was my last thought. No, the last thought was actually: “I hope she dreams of him too. He is the best. She will have the best dream ever.”

PS: this is one of my favorite moments in life – when the sun is shining that much, I am with my coffee, writing a post about him, looking outside – my street is still quiet.

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