August 10, 2018

My dearest,

I had a dream where we were subsumed into a fascist state and I was railing, raging against the machine. What an odd dream.

I felt your hand reaching for mine, desperately seeking succour. That woke me up and I turned to comfort you. It was only later, when dark gave way to light, and we woke up properly to greet the new day, that you told me you had heard me talking in my sleep. What a nightmare.

But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was pure rage, which is all I can recall, really, trembling rage, even after you had slipped back to slumber. What wrath, and oh how I shook.

What calmed me was looking at your sleeping face and praying: May you be well and happy and at ease. May you be healthy and strong. May you be safe, and protected from danger. May you sleep like a baby.

And so you did. What a beautiful vision, oh my love.

Yours, ever and always.