The girl who cries wolf

There was a time when you were only a dream, an intuition. An idea I couldn’t rationalise, built on the blind faith that you must exist (otherwise what is the point of it all)? Meanwhile the years crept on and on.

Until the day I met you. Like an image imprinting on a Polaroid, there it was, a clear concise answer to the question of, ‘what the hell am I looking for?’

They say when you become familiar with a new language, you begin to speak it while you dream. In a way Michael, I think I’ve always known you.

~

“I had my first dream about you last night.”

“Really?” She smiles. “What was it about?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but the whole time I was dreaming, I knew you were mine.”