He said when you wake up in the morning you will know, but when I woke, all I could think of was how perfect he was and how happy he made me. The early morning spring sunrise pierced through the partly drawn curtains and slashed the laminated wood flooring beneath my feet into wide tangerine segments and I felt what I had always wanted to; a soft sensual serenity and the notion that I had finally caught up with myself.
Every serendipitous moment I had ever wished for hung around me motionless, suspended beside hundreds of twinkling dust motes catching the light. My breath was slow and steady, my thoughts settled as I became aware of my naked shoulders and bare feet. I pull a shaggy aquamarine blanket around me and desperately recall my dream.
He had sat beside me, as real and as true as I sit here now. How had he gotten here, how had he made it on time? I look straight ahead, I can feel him. I smell him, hear him fidget, see the creases in his suit as he leans forward in the pews. His body starts to relax and his hand goes out for mine. Every so often he raises our clasped hands to his lips and kisses my fingers. I look at him and I know that on my face is a smile that I have never seen there before. It was real; he was right there beside me, by my side, where he belongs.
The church bells rang out but I do not want to move, i do not want to leave this spot for fear he may disappear again. Feet shuffle around us and people start to stand. He squeezes my hand reassuringly and begins to brush his thumb across the back of my hand. It takes all I have not to close my eyes, not to give in to this wonderful feeling. He smiles at me and I take him in wholly. Nothing else matters; I give in.
I must have closed my eyes, for when I open them, here I am, on my bed, wrapped in downy aquamarine and questioning if he was ever here at all.