This is just a dream

“I can’t believe you’re back,” he whispered as he approached me.

“Well, my dreams tend to be recurring,” I replied, “although not usually immediately.” He took my hand and we started walking. I continued, “The only dream I remember revisiting night after night for weeks on end was a nightmare. I woke up every morning at precisely 4:26 after being frightened by a vampire in the dream. He would make fun of my making crucifix signs at him with my fingers.” I laughed. “I was kind of stupid afraid of vampires, at the time.”

“No longer?” he asked stroking my finger with his as we walked.

“Fortunately, that irrational fear has not been tested asleep or awake, so, I’m good…I guess,” I said.

He turned his head to look at me and smiled, “Don’t worry, I am not a vampire.”

I laughed, “But would you tell me if you were? And really, I’m dreaming, does it matter?”

He slowed and stopped. Taking my shoulders in his hands he said, “Are you so certain that you are dreaming?”

“Well, I remember going to bed last night, and the one before. I dreamed I was here with you, but I woke up in my bed in my home, where I’ve lived all my adult life.”

“But if this is merely a dream, how is that we are here together? How is it that I remembered you – looked for you, waited for you, and here you are? I don’t believe that I am an illusion. I believe that I exist. I am. Just as you are. Not to frighten you, but I believe we are here in this world that is not your world, perhaps, but it is ours.”

He pulled me into his arms. It was dark around us. We were in the same room where we had been the night before. Cloaked in shadows, I could see the overstuffed chairs, the wardrobe, a canopied bed. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his chest. I listened for his heartbeat.

When I had awakened this morning, alone in my own bed at home, I had told myself to do that – listen for his heartbeat – in order to prove to myself that it was a dream; a delusion produced by an overactive, lonely and slightly melancholy brain.

This is just I dream, I said to myself. Prove it, an inner voice replied. He can’t have a heartbeat if it’s just a dream. Right?

His warmth encircled me. I could feel the slow thump of his heart against my cheek. My own began to pound.

“I can hear your heart beat,” I whispered.

“I can feel yours,” he said as he lowered his lips to mine.

I don’t want to wake up, I thought, just before I did.