Original article posted by Angel_Fire:

My focus returns to the muscular build of the body next to me coved only by the motorcycle print quilt he had produced from the trunk of his convertible. The last eight hours look, in my memory, like a town covered in fog. A sweet, euphoric fog with occasional drizzles of warm rain.

He stirs. I pull myself closer into him for warmth and gaze at the stars above us. They roll by far to quickly. “Slow down!” I call to them in spirit. “Please don’t let this night ever end.” They must have heard, for as soon as this thought is completed, they seemed to pace themselves. Except for one, which rocketed across the sky in true fairy tale form. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I know I am home. Too many nights I have looked at these stars alone, and just yesterday I dreamt of this moment.

“I waited for you, too,” he whispers softly in my ear. “I wouldn’t trade our time as friends for anything, though… Except this.” He pulls me closer to him and kisses me gently. Then he just holds me. His healing love surrounds me, and we just talk. Our talking drops off, and he begins to hum “Amazing Grace”. If I wasn’t so in love, that would seem sacreligious to me, but it’s not. He is my grace. And he is most definitely amazing, if I am correct in memory. He likes to play with my hair. He twines it around his fingers just so he can rub it softly across his smooth, humming lips. This proves soothing for both of us, and I begin to drift off, trying desperately to grasp the last strands of consciousness… Not wanting to go to sleep for the fear of waking.

When I do awake, I am home. In my own bed. With my cheetah print comforter and feather down pillow with the purple pillowcase. “Blast,” I mutter under my breath. Dreaming again. I lie in bed thinking about my fantasy and then realize that it’s not slipping from me as dreams normally do. I remember every detail, even though it seems to still be covered in that euphoric fog. I try to shrug it off as I glance at the clock. “Shit!” I yell as I jump out of bed, “I slept through that damn alarm clock again!” I have the unfortunate habit of talking to myself loudly when I’m stressed. I grab a towel and run for the shower.

As I’m getting out of the shower, I reach for my loofah that I dropped and notice the grass in the bottom of the tub. “What the…” Oh, well. I quickly put in my contacts and rush to my room to get ready for work. I look at my bed in despair; I won’t have time to make it. Then something catches my eye. I see a tuft of an only slightly familiar quilt hanging underneath my comforter. I pull it out and gaze in amazement at the tiny motorcycles that seem to race across the surface with my thoughts. It’s all coming back to me now.