The Corridors of her Dreams

I looked back to see her chasing me, down the corridors of her dreams, down the twisting lanes and along the skyways we had travelled together as she slept. We had said good-bye three dreamless nights ago and I had walked away, out of her dreams.

I thought it would be forever.

I thought I would wander these corridors of her dreams, revisit all the places we had spent the night together as she lay sleeping in her bed, remembering the times when she was there with me.

I could only presume that she too had been wandering down her dream corridors and had caught sight of me as I went forlornly from dream place to dream place wondering where it had all gone wrong.

I had come like a thief in the night, easing my way into her dreams, becoming the one she searched for, became the one she met each night as her hands crept down her body to bring her comfort in her sleeping. Only, in the dreams, it was my hands, my body, she saw, felt, tasted, as her fingers moved.

Here I was now, though, running down the corridors looking around frantically for a way out of her dreams, looking for a way back into the dreams of someone else, someone new I’d found when she had turned away to return to her waking world.