Dreams of Love

I dream of her often. I've never seen this woman in real life, she's virtually nameless and faceless to me, but when I close my eyes, she awaits me. Arms extended, love in her eyes and a smile as warm and comforting as the day is long. My name is not Chris when I'm around her, I become "baby," "sweetie," "darlin'," "sugar," and "boo," even though I sometimes hate that word, it's quite positively one of the most beautiful words in the vernacular when she says it to me.

"You probably could have any guy in the world," I reason in my dream as I'm laying with her, innocently tracing her curves and texture with my broad fingertips. "But I'm here with you, aren't I," she shoots back, voice full of maple syrup sweetness. "I want to be with you and no one else baby, it's that simple."

And as quickly as she appears in my dreams, she's gone when I open my eyes. I shake my head and nurse the goose bumps that have sieged my body from the top of my ankles to the shorelines of my shoulders. Who is she? Where is she? When will I find her for real? Surely, praying to God for a love of my own when the world has bigger problems to be handled seems trivial. Yet and still, I've been told that there's no harm in praying for preparedness to meet the woman who will hopefully some day take on my last name and conceive children with me so they can take over the world.

So as I prepare to lay it down for the night, I'll definitely ask God to give me the self-love and strength to realize all the good within Chris along with the peace of mind, confidence and courage to approach women with my best intentions. That way, I'm sure that I won't have to close my eyes to feel loved and wanted.