Lost In Dreams About Her

A Story by KubiAmine

I wake up to soft sheets, and blue lights trickling in through the blinds. My eyes are still shut as I soaked in the warmth of my covers before I realize that I don’t remember having a chandelier in my room. Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, and close my eyes. Because there is this game I love to play. You close your eyelids firmly, and imaging being in a different room. You have to imaging every small detail from that room, and when you open your eyes after some time, you realize you really changed rooms. However, this will fade after couple of seconds. I rub my knuckles onto my eyes, and blink again. I rise like I'm hooked up the mains. No sleepiness, no slow warming up. Within seconds of realizing I was unconscious I am on my feet, eyes wide, dreams not just forgotten but erased, and what dreams am I talking about. I am two feet from the bed drinking in the feedback of all my senses when a figure on the bed moves, and it almost caused my heart to stop. I walk slowly toward the other side of the bed. Aside from my own noisy breath there is nothing to be heard and the room is so lit you could see everything and I wonder if the moon ever shined so brightly back home. I take small and soundless steps towards the sleeping figure. Taking a deep breath in, I very slowly take some of the cover off revealing who is this stranger lying on the bed with me. The figure’s face’s being silhouetted by the blue light glowing large like street-lamps as I am uncovering the covers. Soundlessly asleep she lies as still as a brick. The only movement is the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her heart thumps in accordance with slow, shallow breaths. Serenity is plastered across her face as she sleeps. At peace, her consciousness is swirled in the land of dreams, oblivious to the physical world. Eyes are shut; they are not soulless, nor lifeless. Instead they are like two pearls inside two shelled mollusks.

“Kyra?!” I said barely hearing myself saying it.

Kyra and I have been together for two years now though never had the chance to be together and that for the simplest reason that she lives four thousand miles away from where I live, that is Morocco. Five foot six; my Kyra is young, and beautiful. There is sunshine in her smile and her voice goes right to my brain like a shot of single malt. A deep curve on her lips makes the world stop around her, and a smile that brings back a million memories in a split second. Her curly black hair falls in soft layers around her shoulders so smooth and silky, almost as if it is tailored from gold fabric. Her clothes are so casual: tight jeans or leggings, wide necked sweater and cute boots, but sometimes she wears sandals when it’s hot. She has a kind of understated beauty; perhaps it is because she is so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her black skin is completely flawless even when she’s not wearing makeup. She is all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her, me I noticed, to relax and be happy with what they have. And by having her, I feel like I am having everything.

I lean back very carefully not wanting to wake her up. And how much I want to wake her and hold her so tight to me compensating every time I wanted to do so but couldn’t. I sit on the chair opposite from her on the bed trying to digest what’s going on. From the carousel of random ideas comes some order - a subtle awareness of who I am under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to my waking life. If this whole thing is just a dream, how am I aware of the possibility of it as unreal? Dreams aren’t necessarily logical, and we sometimes just go along with them regardless of how strange or weird they are.

After what it looked like hours looking at her rhythmical sleep, slow breathing, rapid eye movement, dreaming, stillness of deep sleep, heavily asleep, Kyra opens her eyes to me not being alongside her on the bed. Putting back her slipped pajamas’ top covering her bare shoulders, she sits, her eyes are barely open, she looks quizzically at me.

“Baby, is everything okay?” she worriedly asks “Why are you up so early?”
“Uuum y-yes, everything is good, honey” I hesitatingly respond ”You are beautiful even when you are asleep”
“Awh, baby, thank you. That was sweet of you” Her lips curve towards a smile. “You know what would even be sweeter?”
“What is it?” I say questioningly
“You come back here and lie next to me so we could cuddle because the bed feels freezing without you” she hugs herself muttering the words.

It only comes to me when she says it. I am just now aware of the coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance. My clothes feel as damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. I rise from my seat and get on the bed with her.
“How many times I asked you not to open the window during the night?” “Argh baby, you know I can’t sleep when it’s hot”
She wraps her arms around my torso and hugs me close. "I bet you're tired," She says as my arms encircle her waist and my head lolls to her shoulder.

"Maybe," I murmur with a tiny sigh.
"Don't look so sad." Kyra pokes my nose and hold me close, brushing a strand of dark brown hair away from my face.

“You know that you are to be blamed If I get cold” I say as I eagerly wrap my arms around her waist, burying my head in her chest.

In the silhouetted room our cuddles feel like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. For a minute I fear this might end and I wish I can extend this night and every night just so I can stay close to her for longer. Her arms wrap right around me bringing a peace I've never known before, a calming from the storms in my heart. It is her that gives me hope for the future. In her embrace I start to believe that there is nothing out there to fear, that all there is is sunshine. “If in this entire cold universe there is only you I can truly love, it is enough” I whisper to her Just as her hand moves around my middle, warm and soft. “I love you Kyra Danielle Lewis, I'll never let go of you, I will defend you, and I will keep you safe, because you are the spark to my flame, the one who keeps me burning when logic decries my light should have been extinguished long ago.”
Unexpectedly, my hand drifts to her hip. It settles there and pulls her closer. She inhales sharply. My breathing quickens as does hers. I begin nuzzling her neck with delicate kisses. Her limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. My head is angled slightly to the side as my lips come closer and closer to hers. Following the rhythm her body sets, she finds her lips part. Our breaths mingle. Her heart flutters inside her chest. Finally my lips touch her. Sparks flow in every direction, and the world is slowly disappearing around us, along with all of our worries, our troubles and our problems. She makes me feel like none of that matter. It is a small yet warm kiss. I honestly never know a kiss so innocent can be so intimate and electrifying. Her lips are moving in perfect sync, my hands feeling her waist; I pull her closer, the kiss deeper, more passionate. I feel her hands on the back of my neck playing with the ends of my hair. A smile grows on my face as it starts to tickle. While we are kissing, my brain lits on fire and the warmth spreads throughout my entire body. After that I am addicted, I can’t bear not to be with her and I can barely breathe when she is around. Those kisses are my salvation and my torment. I live for them and I would die with the memory of them on my lips. I dedicate my life to being with her from the moment of that first kiss, for I know that if I lost her I would lose myself. She was the half that made me whole, finally we pull apart.

“I love you Mohammed Amine Koubi” She says with sparkling eyes.
“I love you, too, baby. Happy Anniversary” I respond as I place a kiss on her bottom lip.
When we finally clasp each other in a warm, slow and luxurious hug, we feel all oppositions to our love have melted. My chest rising and falling against her back, our breaths in unison, and the warm blood that we can feel in each others' embrace.

“Can I close the window now?” I ask almost whispering. I look down and see that she was half asleep, her eyes opening at my question. She barely nods, her eyes slipping closed. I close my eyes, and in a deep sleep I fall.

My dream ends abruptly, as I am shaken back into reality. I know It is too much good to be true. My eyes opened, my eyelashes faintly batting against my lids when I blink. I lie on my bed, debating whether or not I should get up. My muscles feel weak, just like my energy. I let out an exasperated sigh “What a dream” I say.