“Have we met before?” You asked, with a hint of smile in your voice and your hands trying to find my hair to play with. I kept my eyes closed and smiled, and nodded my head. He had found the perfect strands to play with and I was letting him; even though I hated having my hair touched. I let him.
“I think.. I think that I have met you before. Somewhere so beautiful. It’s Yellow and Purple and the sky is the Bluest shade of blue there is and the sun is out and so are your shades and your wearing white because white has always been your colour and in a field of poppies or daisies.. or lavenders.. you knew that white could not hide. Do you remember meeting me there?” He had now found my shoulders and was drawing circles on them whilst tracing soft touches along my neck and my spine.
I didn’t know if I was dreaming of if he was dreaming and I was part of his dream, but I wanted to hear more and I could wake up from this. I let him stroke me and I smiled again and whispered, “I don’t think we’ve met. I don’t think that that was when we met. I think you saw me in a dream.”
He laughed, so low and soft that if I wasn’t lying so close to him, I probably would’ve just thought that he had exhaled. But he laughed and placed his hand on my face. He said, “But you are my dream. You are the one that I have dreamed about. These moments with you are what dreams are made of.”
I opened my eyes and our eyes finally met for the first time that night, and he was right,
We had met before.