I had a dream in which I slept with a woman who I’ve never met. I discovered her years ago and her writing immediately got to me. Very visceral experiences, sad and tragic, but there was a strength there as well. There is such a strength in her writing. Not an unfamiliar story for me, to be drawn to a woman like her, but she also expressed an interest in my writing. It was a thrill for someone whose work I admired to like my stuff as well. In this way I developed a shy Internet affection toward her. The kind of affection expressed in clicking little hearts and stars.
But affection developed on the Internet has burned me. I feared going through it again, and bringing unnecessary drama into someone’s life. As much as I hate it, I seem to nurture that sort of bullshit. Goes back to before any of this Internet stuff. I wasn’t up for it again, in any case.
My heart is racing like it hasn’t in years. The dream was simple. We talked, we flirted, then we slept together. It’s the happiest I’ve been since I don’t want to know when. Haven’t felt a tenderness like I felt in that dream for a while. Just the possibility that I could be with someone with whom I could be natural, free. Happy. That word is rare in my vocabulary. Don’t even think it. It felt dangerously good. The kind of thing that becomes a fantasy. An unreal escape.
I wonder sometimes if that’s the worst thing. A pleasant fantasy. Of tenderness, lust, what have you. I’m like to agree with the opinion that it’s unhealthy, but who’s to say what happens in a dream? It’s a free zone of sorts. If happiness and beauty happen, then they happen. Appreciate the presence while it lasts.