It's true. I'm here, drenched in my thoughts, all circling around a single piece of information: it's real. This is really happening. And it's happening to me.
I'm kissing her, kissing her over and over again as if to make sure I'm not dreaming; and I'm madly in love, just like in those heydays of the nineties, just a bit wrinkled and greyish, yet still young — maybe even too young — at heart. Loving and being loved — and enjoying every moment of it.
I've had this recurring dream over the years, hidden back in my head, showing up unexpectedly from time to time, leaving me shaken once I woke up. I'd take her out, we'd talk, I'd see her off, she'd let me in, we'd make love.
I'm overjoyed and fascinated. And above all, happy, happier than I would ever hope I'd be.
Fingers crossed, I'm not gonna fuck up.
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