As you jog towards the ocean, feet flinging sand to tap the small of your back, secret skin exposed to the sun, then splashing through the foamy waves, you dive in where I take your hand…

You cradle me against your chest, sunset behind your head, crystal eyes gazing into mine, and as if you could read my mind, your wet lips slip salty kisses up my neck and along my jaw, then our lips part together welcoming a tide coming in with our tongues colliding…

(I keep seeing him do it again and again in my head so right now I can’t watch the video again, too dangerous. No, tonight I need to show how I can envision me fitting into his world for a beautiful moment, fulfilling my dream.

I stopped trying to deny I need help right now. Allowing myself to dream of him, despite the ‘never’ of it, invigorates me with power. I actually drove to four different places today that cause extreme anxiety, and even with having expired plates, the BMV felt sunny and happy!

I’ve felt like I’m living in the twilight zone for years and years and years, until color came back into my world because dreaming became not just powerful but possible.

It’s his face gets me through my liminal space, and the wisdom of his voice brings sense and solace to a brain that so often gets lost in this mad world’s maze.

I go to bed this way many a night. TV off, whole house dark, and finally a flicker, a tingle-spark, producing a pervading warmth from my bottom up with a swift burn of lust…and that’s when I go there…Instagram.

I only have to look at my own saved videos, and no one is the wiser.

He sings me to sleep for real, dreaming of gorgeous places and fun excursions (often writing or watching until I can’t see straight so that I can find some REM).

Dreams sit on the tip of my tongue by morning as I open my eyes at six, snores done he’s already on his phone or in the garage gone. Very little for me in the between.

I have his face as my saving grace:)