In vino veritas (my dreams are my own)


Tonight the temptation to linger nostalgically on the memory of that night and others like it is, well, temping. I drink red wine and slumber into the sweetness of meeting you in my dreams. It was different this time, you were reluctant, I was awkward, we spoke, tried to find the connection that once was so strong that it tore my heart apart to know it was not a part of my reality…


Then something strange happened. I realised that no matter what I do or say, you will remain the man in my dreams, you will not know about my life because you are not a part of it, and that freedom gave me the voice I thought would obliterate you from my life. You see, you are not a part of my life, you are safely kept in a small box next to my bed with a neat little red bow around it. In my dreams, you look at me and you are amazed at the person I am, you look at me and see the person I want to be, because I have engineered you to be that guy for me. No matter how or why this started, I am in control here. You are in my dreams, and subject to my every whim and desire. Your kisses in the nape of my neck are filled with the passion I put there. Your lips touching mine are a design of my own creation and adoration.


I want what I want, and you want what I want because I say so. You are my dream and your nearness to my bare skin captivates my imagination because I allow it. I don’t need your permission to pursue my life in the real sense, but I need you protection from the hurt that I find there. I need your arms around me in the dead of the night when the wind howls and tears at my real life and not even the best of red wine can reheat the cold that has settled into my heart.


You are a figment of my imagination and I need you tonight. I need you to give me what the world cannot, to give me my desires without question or consequence. And so I drown my reality out with another glass of wine and walk towards my bed, remembering the twisted entangled actuality, lingering between dealing with it and the forgetful bliss your touch invokes in my fantasies of dreams that could come true. I look over my shoulder to that which is not and I close my eyes thereto, rather untying the knot and letting your (my) imagination take me where I need to go.


All of a sudden you appear at my door and without a word you kiss me with a passion long since thought taboo. I give in to you without thought to tomorrow, because tonight, in this moment, this dream belongs to me and in it my heart’s desire is simple. I reach out to you and there you are, because desire, right or wrong, is simple, uncomplicated, unfazed by what tomorrow will bring or where this dream will end. Indulgent, impulsive, infatuation. In vino veritas.



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