I dream of him. Every night.
He slips into my sleep like a sweet burn. He says nothing. He looks at me. He takes me. And I feel everything.
His hands. His skin. His breath. His weight.
When I wake up, the sheets are still wrapped around my thighs, my throat is dry, my stomach tied in a delicious cramp that won't go away.
He doesn't exist. But my body doesn't care.
My body knows him. My body craves him. Again. Again.
I don't understand. I'm going insane.
I search for him in people's eyes. In the streets.
I can still feel his voice I've never heard.
Smell his scent I can't even name.
It's an obsession.
An addiction.
A need stronger than reality.
And then one day, I see him.
I'm no longer asleep.
But my body reacts as if I still were.
And that's when I know.
What I used to dream of… has just begun.