“What do you want?”, a deep, dark voice boomed in my ear, as if demanding that I convey my deep desires in exchange for my own life.
I paused for a moment and thought deeply, not to decide if I were to choose between a million dollars, a powerful position in a company, or a night with the consensus most beautiful woman in the world.
I paused for a moment and thought, “Will he able to make her love me?”
I started drawing. I pulled out a sheet of fine paper, holding a fine stem of dark drawing coals and started drawing from memory how her hair flowed from her face down to her silken chest, her eyes that stared far and away, her cheeks that reminded me of something I can never put words down to describe. I drew and drew, as if she lay before me, as if she posed for me.
Then I showed him.
“I do not grant wishes, nor give what is not in my power to give. I can give you only dreams, and you make of what you want of them, like the thoughts, feelings and actions you put in your canvas. It is not I who has the power, but you.”
Then I woke up.
I feel a soft, warm hand brush against mine and a soft whisper.
“Are you alright?” you ask.
I nod sleepily.
The next thing I feel is your lips against mine, and I am reminded, like everyday that I am with you, that dreams can do come true.
I had a dream, and that dream was you.