Made of dreams

Falling into my dreams, falling into my life. He, actor, me, thinker. Both link by the power of dream, by the power of imagination. In my mind, he is the main character. In my heart, he stands for the leading role.
In my dreams, he would be there. Just there. More thinker than actor, but there. Leading role? Not that much. But there. He would stare me, but not look at me with passion. He would stare me cry, but not help me in dark paths. But he would be there. Just there.
When I am looking for someone to hold me a hand, he isn't there. When death is surrounded my nightmares, when I can't breath anymore, when people that I love are dying, he isn't there. He is people that are dying. He can't breathe anymore with me. He looks for someone's hand too. He is me. We are he and I. In my dreams, we are one, there, both, but without anything to do. Just thinker, no leading role. No role at all. We just submit what happen.

Back into real live. Back in this room, with him, with his heart beating, proving that he is fully alive. A simple touch reassures me. The calming sound of his breath made my heart found again its low beats. He moves. He accidentally touches my hand. He wakes up. I can feel his movements, his body close to mine. He is here. But not just here. He is fully here, he touches again my hand, with passion this time, he gives me a kiss, a discreet and soft kiss.

Back into my dreams, I can now fully dream of him. Flower and butterfly can be part of this imaginary world. Flower, butterfly, and love. And him.