The man of my dreams…

I am one of those infuriating people who never ask for what they want. It is difficult for me to request something without somehow feeling guilty or wrong. This is in regards to food, requests of other people, many things.
To add to my frustrations, I will see a person that I would like to get to know and never say anything, regardless of if it’s for friendship or for something more. I will see that same person eight hundred times, say on the same route to work everyday or at the coffee shop where I always go, and never admit, “I would like to know you. Let’s talk sometime.”
Last night, I had a dream. And in this dream, I met the most exquisitely beautiful Spanish man I’d ever seen in all my life. In my dream state, as soon as I saw him, I knew he would mean something to me. I had to say something. And in this dream, I did.
My dream self told the man that I thought he was the most exquisitely beautiful man I’ve ever met in all my life, and that I would like to get to know him better. And he agreed. And I spent the rest of this dream talking to him, learning from him, listening to him read me Spanish poetry about New York. Towards the end of this dream, I was walking outside his house, breathing fresh air like none I’ve smelled in a long time, surrounded by green grass and trees. And in the midst of it all, was a bush with one solitaire red rose, captivating in its contrast to the woody surroundings. This dream man walked me around the property he lived on and showed me a view of which novels and great poetry are made. And of course, dreams.
And I woke from this dream with the most delicious smile on my face and I haven’t been able to get rid of it since.
Oh, the possibilities of what could happen if I just let myself want something – want someone – and consequently, ask for it, expect it, believe that I am worth the things my heart desires. Perhaps my dream was to show me that. Perhaps an inner transformation has begun. And I am all the happier for it.

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