How everything I liked were there: the gloom; the music that was on loop before I dozed off (Max Richter’s Infra 5); you- holding, hugging & not letting go

In my life, awake, we’re only ever friends.

We were in our perfect semi-formal attire: you- in your white shirt and polo, folded up thrice, black pants, and nice leather shoes; myself- in a dress, the dress I wore the day I wished you saw me in highpainfulheels

We were running into a rustic looking building from your car.

We did a kind of running that wasn’t tiring.

In our semi-elegant clothes, we ran.

Up the stairs. Up, up.

We were in the theater balcony but we needed to go down because the balcony was the only way through to reach the lower part of the theater.

Your sister was playing.

In my dream, it was her recital.

She was playing the violin. The music she played was that of which I left on loop before sleeping.

I held you. The feeling I had in my dream as I held you isn’t anything I’ve known I’m capable of feeling.

I never felt warm holding anybody- no matter how deeply I’ve fallen for.

But I held onto your left arm, I tugged at your left hand and pointed you to the stairs- still wet of cement, under renovation- leading down. The only way down.

You didn’t want to but you were trusting.

You do not want our shoes to be ruined with cement.

We were ready to go down when a lady in one of the balcony seats, watching, talked to us.

We were courteous enough to turn back and talk to her. She was curious. I know she is.

I’ve never seen that woman in my life. She looked curious to me, too.

You got around to having a small conversation with her.

Since I haven’t met your family, I was a little out of place.

Every answer of yours, she finished for you. She knew your family because she says she’s a few of your female relatives’ mentor.

You didn’t want my mind to stray away.

In my dream that’s how it felt. So you held me.

We were sort of dancing..hugging? Either way, we were steady, but we felt light. You felt soft.

I was facing the stage, looking down where the performer is. My left cheek rested on your left arm; your left hand and my right intertwined. Your right hand held my waist, and my left hand rested on your right chest.

It felt like we were supposed to dance, but you held me to not let my mind stray.

At least, in my dream, that’s how it felt.

You kept on with your conversation with the lady mentor, while your right hand moved about gently, tickling me.

The ticklish feel felt real. I am very ticklish in real life.. but in my dream I resisted. I refrained from laughing. I just clung to your left arm more each time.

It was sweet.

In my dream, that’s how you felt.

..and we stayed that way until consciousness stole me from your hold.