In Vino Veritas (Dreams don’t die)

There are those that understand and those who do not, this passionate pleasure that you bring to my dreams in the midst of a dark night engorged in warm blankets and red wine. There are those who question my sanity and affection for the affected armour that your arms encase me in. I sit here and remember the heat of the night where windows steam up and whispers convey soft spoken messages of unrivalled unravelling for the purest need of you. In fantasy, lying beside you I feel alive even though it is dead. That reality from where once this truth sprung was undermined by the application of my mind.

I need you some nights. Some night I lie awake and yearn for the dreams that once passed between us so freely. I beg sleep to come swiftly and bring with it the comfort of having a hand to hold, a back to scratch in the depth of a lonely night. Pass the red wine please, because my head hurts. Escaping to your fantasy is a delusion I willingly accept. In that dream land far away from the floor we sit and talk and laugh and I fit perfectly into your life, like that nook your arm creates just for me. In my dreams, you look at me with bewildered wanton emotion that stops you from turning away. In my dreams, we are free of the tainted truth that tore me away from you bed in an attempt to save myself from me.

How I crave for an invite to your doorstep of dreamland. How I miss not having a reality to face, not having to accept the consequences of my actions, but rather act.

Act on what I want without accepting what I feel. How I need a night with the dream man I have created from loss and lust. I sip my wine and smile in the face of adversity. Look at me not care. Look at me throw caution to the wind until it sweeps me away into it’s rapture.

Your soft eyes are playing with me and enjoying every moment of watching me squirm. I try to think. Try to remember a moment before my brain lost the will to control my will. Strong willed and uninhibited I stubbornly continue to allow you into my dreams. For here, in this vast abyss of endless you I find fulfilment. Here, in the dimension of my dementia, I can dream up the delectable desires I have disallowed myself in life.

In vino veritas, this dream was supposed to end, but it did not.