The nights were torture, my dreams seemed to be taking on a life of their own, and I found myself growing closer and closer to him in my dreams as the nights wore on. It was there that he owned me completely, there where he weaved his spell in the dark recesses of my dreams. He hadn’t said a word about the beach outing outside of that first dream, and I didn’t bring it up, suffice it to say I knew it was not to be repeated. All of this, and yet we’d yet to have a conversation. It’s by far the weirdest experience of my life, and I’ve done plenty weird. Last night’s dream though, had been the worst, or the best depending on how you look at it. He’d come to me, touched me as if I would break, but still he wouldn’t kiss me, even though I yearned for it. He touched me deeper than all the other times before, his hands roaming all over my body as he took me places I’d never dreamed of.
