Short Stories

Dream Catcher 3

I dreamt of you last night. I was clapping my hands with the crowd, just after you played two rounds with your band. You were headed towards my direction, but you were looking behind me, and somehow I know that there are guys sitting behind me who knows you. I stared at you, knowing that you will never look my way. But when you were near me, you offered your hand and there I knew you were expecting my hand to respond. I looked away as you went past me and felt when you leaned on my chair.

Our backs facing each other, I can feel the warmth, the sweat emanating from your black shirt. My chest began pounding, as though I wanted to pass out. Right then and there I felt your fingers on my left ear. I swallowed hard and I was not able to move. ‘Why?’ I thought. Catching my breath, I heard you laugh with the people you were talking to. I could neither hear nor understand what you guys were talking about. All I can feel are your cold fingers brushing on my earlobe. All I can hear is the hushing of my hair against your fingers. “I need to ask what your ‘touch of the ear’ means,” I thought. But I better ask someone fast before this fleeting moment passes me by.

When I felt you move away, I stood up and looked for my friends. I was about to ask one of them about your sensual gesture but got distracted when you were just beside me, waiting for what I have to say. The next thing I know I was staring at my peach blanket, sweating, and wondering if everything that happened was real.

Any thoughts?

%d bloggers like this: