Last Dream

When David woke up, his body gave away the sensual dream he had been in the middle of and the sheets were soaked with sweat.  This was not the firbeach2st time he had dreamed about the woman by the sea.  By now his tortured and conflicted mind hoped that the dream would not be his last.  For the past week, every night, he had been having pretty much the same dream–it was certainly the same woman in the dream.  In his dream she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  In his more rational moments–in the hours when he was awake—he could realize that of course she was beautiful, she was a dream!  He knew his mind could make her look any way it wanted–could have her “be” any way it wanted.

Dreams can be a sucker punch in that respect—worse than a picture in a magazine.

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