A Dream Named Neil

it’s 1:05pm;

i don’t know what time i awoke this morning

but when i first checked the clock it was 10:13

and i was already in despair because it was over.

i can’t tell you how long

i’ve been painting the picture

of a perfect husband in my head,

but i can tell you that

he has evolved into something that i am proud of.

i take pride in knowing that my judgement is sound;

i’m not looking for a bad boy like some girls are,

i’m not looking for some way-too-smart-for-reality doctor,

someone who happens to look exactly like prince charming,

i’m not looking for a marshall to my lily because i don’t like olives,

some jim to my pam because i don’t really feel like a receptionist,

some andy to my april because we’re both too weird for anyone else.

i’m looking for the man of my dreams.

i met a guy, a man, something like that,

on a retreat,

twenty years old and cute as a button,

face as innocent as a child

but personality simple and sweet like the average man.

he’s real.

his life goes on beyond the scope of what happens when i’m asleep,

but i remember being on the beach.

the sand was fair and fine,

it was a little chilly,

chilly enough to make me want to warm up in his arms,

but not so cold that i’d be devastated if he decided not to be my fireplace.

but then, all of a sudden,

we were awkwardly catching one another

after an approach that probably should have

had its own soundtrack, but didn’t.

i remember his hands on my back,

on my waist,

i remember my nose meeting the warm crease of his neck.

i went to kiss his cheek, kiss his collarbone, something,

but he kissed my lips.

i remember thinking, “wow, what a feeling.”

i'd never kissed anyone before,

but now i had.

and it wasn’t scary like the movies make it out to be.

it wasn’t so powerfully dramatic and magical

that it made the sunset burst into a new spectrum of colour.

it wasn’t wet and sloppy and gross

like the elderly bitterly say as they sip their coffee at the cafe.

it was gentle and normal and kind and sweet,

like making breakfast together on a saturday morning in our pjs,

like the ocean being just the right temperature when you go for a swim.

i remember taking a shower, but that has nothing to do with him,

i remember the way that he held

the crook of my waist when he put his arm around me,

which is the best.

i remember taking pictures together with groups,

always making sure that we were next to each other in the crowd,

so that whoever looked at the photograph could tell

by the way we held onto each other and smiled,

that we were a team.

and that's about all.

dreams are cruel like that, i reckon.

you wake up and you remember exactly enough

to make you wish you were still asleep.