Morir Soñando

To Die Dreaming…

… The thought of her awakens me sometimes, from the middle of dreams I can’t remember, it’s not the image of her face, the softness of her skin, but just the sudden awareness of her total beauty – that first strike before any of the details become clear — that jolts me awake and leaves me longing on the broken shoals of my bed.

For just a moment, I’m upset she’s not here with me, but then the anger subsides into longing, and I stand and pace, haunting the darkness of my room, thinking of possibilities. Gradually, I come to the awareness that there’s no reason for anger, only choices. I ponder all this for what seems like hours and it’s the thought of her beauty that makes me lie back on my bed, weighing me down so that I plummet through the thin fabric of wake and sleep and drown in the middle of dreams I don’t remember…

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