Dreaming of . . . him?

I haven’t seen him since I was 13 years old, I have never had a crush on him, never found him more attractive than any other, never have I though of him, until now

The dream started in a bar, in a city street full of tall red brick buildings, despite this fact the sun light was streaming down on us. Him, me and some other old friends were just socializing and having some drinks, enjoying the sun and the unusual deserted street.

It seemed we were the only ones in the world, and soon my friends faded away in the background and we were alone, just him and me. His hands are what I remember most of the dream, the feel of them, their texture, how they were sun tanned . . .

The dream about his hands, the dream about him.


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