Unedited. Sharing this short writing practice piece I hastily wrote for under half an hour

***

Of dreams and the memory of your lips

Have you ever thought about kissing a friend and a platonic one at that?

No?

 Well, I have.  

I kissed him in my dream last night.

It was a good kind of kiss—soft as petals, sweet as bonbons. Our kiss was very much like melting candy floss on a sunny carnival day. It was a lot of fun...his lips seeking mine as we slowly opened our mouths and closed our eyes.

I don’t fully remember the sequence of events but one minute there he was, slipping right next to me on that small hammock that was only fully intended to be for one person--me. I didn’t think too much of it then, but we were huddled up, with him almost spooning my whole frame and I could only hear the eerie silence and his slow breath. 

It only took one roll to the other side for me to meet his warm eyes under the beautiful sunlight. I trembled, not at all used to be in such close  proximity with a friend I have known for more than a decade. 

But I didn’t move away.

 And neither did he.

***

Time stretched and I remembered struggling to break eye contact from him. After so many years of knowing him, it was just at that dream that  I realized I never really knew how his eyes looked like. They looked dewy--almost sad--as he locked them with mine. 

I remembered giggling softly as I mustered up the courage to tell him his eyes had the color of burnt amber when the light touches his face. It made him look extraordinarily beautiful and that, was something I didn’t tell him even if it was just in a dream.

He laughed it off, as he normally does when someone bids him a compliment but he didn’t stop looking even as the wind rustled the leaves and swung the hammock at a higher speed. 

***

People say one can only find things that he or she have  already seen  in one’s dreams but in this particular one, I’ve never seen him look like this...I’ve never seen my surroundings like this. 

Yet there I was, in an unfamiliar field of green with a familiar man right by my side. I remembered laughing at the absurdity of the situation but he pulled me closer and his fingers crooked my chin upwards as he gently whispered for me to watch the blue butterflies dance atop our heads.

We watched the blue butterflies dance in the air and orange leaves fall on the ground as I leaned slowly to rest my head on his chest. That stretched into minutes, hours, days--who knows how long really. I just remembered that we did that for quite a while in my nocturne. 

What I cannot remember entirely was what happened next. The events after became a blur but what I could clearly recall was him tilting my head to look up at him. He was coming onto me, his arms enveloping me tighter, my hands punching his chest, and then, there it was. 

The kiss. 

My first kiss with him.

Him--the boy with the saddest burnt amber eyes and the softest smile. 

We were kissing. Or at least, that was what I saw in my dream. That was what it felt like. In that dream, he gave me more than just close-mouthed pecks. It was the mesh of hungry lips and sweet kisses...it gave me the chills of cheap thrills and something more alt