He has been haunting my dreams. This man in my dreams is the man of dreams, of my dreams.
I know his eyes, his mouth, his hair. I know that soft spot on his neck. I know his scent, his laugh, his kiss. I know his intimate caress.
Somehow I also know his name, even though we have never met.
I know him in moments and flashes and through my vivid dream-fuelled senses. I know him only in fragments. When I try to piece him together he is elusive, fading, disappearing, defying recollection.
But in dreams, in dreams, he comes together again for me, with me. He comes together and strokes my cheek and reads my words and loves me as no other man has ever dared.