Andrea’s dream

I wake up in an unfamiliar room. It looks like a Provençal farmhouse. Soft summer light streams through the half-open window. The linen curtains rustle in a gentle breeze. I feel comfortable, as if weightless. Wave-like ripples gently move across the bed, making it seem alive. This bed is large, and I occupy one of the two sides. The other side is still warm. The scent of the sheets washes over me, and I’m completely hooked. A smell of open air and skin. I breathe in the empty pillow happily. I must live here, because on the bedside table I see two of my favourite books. I look up and see the fan crafted from May lilies, releasing their sweet aroma with each turn

I hear running water in the adjoining bathroom. I try to enter, but the door is locked. I turn away and suddenly find myself in a meadow, seated at a rustic wooden table. Enjoying the view of wildflowers, I drink a glass of orange juice that keeps filling up like a cornucopia. I close my eyes, surrendering to the beauty of the moment. The soft, scraping sound of a key turning in a lock disrupts my reverie. The bathroom door opens at last… My heart stands still, as I know I am about to see the face of my true love.

22.07 Where Love Belongs