Bedtime Remembrances
by sloanranger
I clicked the lamp switch, set my book aside and reached for the pillow. Fighting a slight feeling of sadness about something the night had brought earlier, I slid down under the bedclothes and pressed the cool part of the pillow onto my brow.
Pulling the covers further up - beneath my chin - I could feel fear competing with the sadness, scraping around its edges, trying to supplant it. Both trying to gain momentum - and both would, if I allowed them. So far, though, only the sadness prevailed, and suddenly – a thought of you.
It was when we'd first met. I'd written something that another reader had incorrectly interpreted as sexual and hence humorous. Your comment denied the interpretation and said that you found the poem lovely.
A warm smile came to me then, quickly accompanying a blush in the dark and then a grander, wider smile. Remembrance came next of a comment from you about another of my works and how I'd felt it meant even more.
The blankets were pulled over my nose and covered half my face, modestly hiding the glee and joy I'm feeling. I wrapped my arms around me - hugging me, as I snuggled down joyfully into myself, thankful for bedtime remembrances, and of you.
YOU ARE READING
Dream Scape
Non-FictionSeries of works to do with dreams, visions and sightings - and things that are dream-like.
