|My Dream of mMy Celtic Lover (standard:romance, 488 words)|
|Author: Vagabond||Added: Jun 02 2003||Views/Reads: 2064/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Dreams, even the vague ones that we may not remember entirely from our youth, can come true!|
I dreamt of a lady, coming forth out of the ocean, when I was very young. She had red, wavy hair, brown or green eyes, a very lithe gait, as if the water parted for her as she came out to me, standing there on the beach. She kissed me, bosom to chest and our arms wrapped around each others bodies. Nothing carnal from that dream, but I know it was there, someway, somehow. I remember that dream from when I was nine or ten years old. The gist of it never let me go. Thirty-something and divorced, my heart longed for the companionship of another. Then, in words, in prose, I was able to evoke my best and then to touch my feelings. I welcomed her with this ferver and passion I had found. She was like me, wanting to be Spartan in all she did. Wanting to give more than recieve. The outdoors were our adult playground, if I may say it as such, and we did play. Canoeing to islands in my beautiful back bay, or settling on a beach ever so private, knowing love making would be sacred and undisturbed. We were beyond pornagraphy with it and knew it. Every act or non-act was never taboo. Consenting adults, and privately so where love making was concerned. This is not where our relationship dwelled, however. The real love making came from waking up early, watching my lady sleep in a little longer, and simply enjoying the sight. A gentle peck on the cheek would wake her. Sometimes, roles would be reversed. Also, we made love by reading prose;both written by the greats and also what we could do ourselves, our passions ever eminating in what we read. And there was definitely feeling, no matter what we read or who was reading to whom. We'd take turns being at each others knee. It was very special to us doing that every other evening or so. There was the walks outdoors. Walking around the block, along the seashore or through a state park. It mattered not, really, as long as we were together, her hand in mine. We would discuss stories yet to write, stories and poems written and getting together on a piece of prose that would be our epic, concrete evidence forever that we would last. Understanding, communication and admiration only grew stronger between us. It was beautiful. Wonderful. And if we needed time apart, even within the home, never a problem. She could read or go online or sleep and I would occupy myself with music, writing or television. Or sitting on the back porch, wide open, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. There was nothing this love could not do, in it's simplicity, in it's understanding, in it's pure love blessed from above. My lady, I love you. Let's keep going from here. And may every child know that dreams do come true. Sometimes........ Tweet
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