I've had dreams like this before - at least the very ending of it; but this one was so intense and beautiful in its own way that I had to share it.
As a warning, this dream was erotic (though not explicitly so) and - for those of you who haven't studied dream theory or psychology - I'd like to point out that the people in dreams are often signifiers, or replacements; basically a person you trust takes the place of someone either in real life, or in a situation that you have no person from real life to fulfil the role with.
With these things in mind, I'd like to invite you into the privacy of my mind, and allow you a small insight into my world.
We must have fallen asleep like this; my head on his chest, one hand under his shoulder, the other wrapped gently round his waist, one leg curled over his. His hands lay gently on my back, one foot hooked over my straight leg where it still rested on the bed. I woke up and didn't want to move or get up. The warmth and comfort of being that close to him, touching skin to skin, of being held.
Not thinking, I nuzzled closer to his chest. The smell of him washed over me and I inhaled deep. His deodorant barely masked the smell of his skin and the dampness of his sweat. He always smells of warm rain to me; that clean, cool freshness that rain brings with it - only warm. I could hear and feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, beneath me.
I must have woken him by snuggling closer, because his arms tightened around me. Hugging him back I felt his head lift moments before he kissed me on the forehead.
My own head tilted back to look at him. Then our lips met and the world disappeared. The kiss was slow, as though we were still sleeping, but grew in intensity as we pulled each other even closer.
Soon we were laid on our sides, bodies entwined, exploring each others mouths with our eyes lightly closed. Something touched against my most sensitive parts and I finally realised we were both nude. We both pulled back from the kiss enough to stare in each others faces. His eyes were just as surprised and questioning as mine. After a moment, though, our faces were just fractionally closer. I don't know who had moved; but, as if it were a cue for something more, we fell into each other again. This time, when our lips met, our bodies did too - joining us together in a slow, languorous motion.
My hands slid round his back, and without thinking he ended up on top of me, moving slowly but rhythmically in me. It was as though his movements were caused purely by deep breathing, and I found myself wrapping my legs around his while his strong arms supported him as he hovered above me on his hands and knees.
The kiss had stopped, though the gentle massaging movement hadn't, and he stared down into my eyes as if seeing me for the first time.
Slowly his body lowered to mine, his hands cupping round the back of my shoulders, his face inches above mine as he continued to take my breath in ragged pleasured gasps.
This time, as he kissed me, I felt my body melt away. No; not away - it melted into his. Or did it ever exist to begin with? It was as if all that was left was the feeling and him. His presence surrounding me with love and happiness. I felt him deep inside, but in a metaphysical, mental, emotional way this time.
As the feeling intensified I began to feel more of him - more of who he is, was, could be.
Then the memories started. Vague at first; just images of him, images I knew - of his longer hair, of his smile, of his frown, of him fighting back tears. As I watched, he grew younger, and the images became moments. Some moments he had told me about before; memories of his family, of moving, of being an outcast. Other's I'd never imagined, never been told of.
The thing was, I didn't just see them, I felt them - felt them as he had. I wept with him at the pain, and for him when he was wronged. I rejoiced with him in his achievements.
Images of women came next, of girls he had known. This one he had loved; this one he hadn't. I felt his regret over some, his yearning of others. I felt his heart break over this one; then another - felt the rejection...
Eventually they were moving too fast to think about. It was as if I were just absorbing everything he'd ever been; and behind it all was that searching, that feeling of displacement. Behind it all was the 'perfect' image he slowly created that he desperately wanted to find.
The feelings intensified until I cried out, my body coming back to me in a moment of sheer pleasure.
We collapsed together, breathing hard; he by my side, one arm flung across the bed as if it would stabilise him. After a few deep breaths that sounded like those of a drowning man, I managed to turn and look at him.
There were tears running down his cheeks, though he didn't look sad. He turned to look at me, and saw my hand reach out and brush a tear away.
Normally I'd make a comment like "Was it that bad?", but without knowing how, I felt that he had just seen what I had... or perhaps, had seen the same amount of me.
His hand was on my cheek, brushing away my own tears that I hadn't realised were there.
The thing was, we hadn't just cried because of the sad things we'd seen; we cried because of all of it - because it was too beautiful not to cry. We had seen each others souls - and if that didn't warrant tears, nothing does.
We leant together and kissed once more. This time our bodies didn't melt away quite the same, but we seemed to float away together; everything dissolving around us until there was just him, me, and the moment.
I could feel his thoughts, and saw that he could feel mine too.
There was no need to say "I love you." We already knew.
