Spain with American men in my dreams

I look up and the blue sky seems so far away, and the air it smells different, it smells . . . like Spain. Am I in Spain? I looked around and we are. And I say we because he is right there standing beside me, with a blue camp shirt and a khaki shorts laughing as I seldom seen him laugh.

We are in Spain and my very good friends, whom I miss dearly, call him by his name in Spanish. We drink and eat and have fun and  . . . I think we go to a wedding.  It seems a recurring dream of mine, going to weddings. Going to wedding with him.


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