I dream of a certain boy quite often. I liked the shape of his shoulders and the way he looked at me, not so much his hands but his forearms with his sleeves rolled up over them and the color of his skin.
My dreams are never of things we’ve actually done, always silly things that will never happen. They’ve involved motorcycles and a kiss on the other side of a bridge, a whispered conversation, a bar and a dance.
I don’t know how much of this person in my dreams, this delicious boy, is my creation and how much is the real person. It’s so easy to have a dreamlover and make him perfect (and never poisonous) but when it’s someone I know I just have to wonder how much of him is me?
