All dreams always end--even this one.
Amid the dim-lighted room, eating the yummiest pasta I've ever tasted, surrounded by strangers, I don’t care, I don’t fell crowded. All I know is that I’m with the most special person in my life, whose presence could make any tasteless food delicious and any noisy place serene; whom I’ll feel safe even at the edge of a 30-story building, not that I've tried, rather speculation of course—to describe how it feels to be with this lean man sitting in the opposite side of the table.
He looked at me innocently. I hope he knows what’s running on my head—just him. Though, never mind, I bet it’ll just scare him. I wouldn't dare explain that I’m not a stalker, because I’m not!
He tells a story, I listened carefully, picking the right reaction to every word he utters. In my peripheral vision I see our reflection in the near glass window, a petite lady with eyes shining in adoration to a young man who even in his reflection seems so enigmatic, at least to me. He says things aloud yet I can’t grasp what they really mean—just like in a dream where you see things clearly but you hardly identify which things remain when you have to wake up soon, and then sooner.
I nodded, yes to a question, which I can’t really recall after that agreeing gesture, but I’m sure, yes would be the rightest answer. He smiled and I totally disregarded the question.
I know it’s time to go when he signaled for the bill in the pretty waitress nearby, I wonder if she thinks the same toward this man as I am, and if he can see the beauty of this other woman. I don’t know. And I don’t want to think about it now. Not now, if not never.
We start walking. I can almost hear the alarm clock ringing. It’s almost time to wake up again. I wonder, when will I dream again? Will time ever come when I don’t have to wake up in this dream anymore? Before we reach a dead-end of bidding a sweet goodbye, I reach into his face, pat it gently and as he try to bend toward me, a loud deafening ring dragged me out of the lovely dream.
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