I was kissed in a dream last night. It was a nice kiss, very pleasant. It was by someone I like but do not know very well, though I would like to. No, not to know him like "that" and no, no one you readers of this journal know or that I've written about here, or ever intend to; just an acquaintance recently met...and yet there is a sense of familiar closeness that brings me contented warmness inside in simply meeting him.

Aquaintances are all we shall ever be.

It was interesting. A First Kiss, like an introduction, an brief exploration into the make-up of the other, the type of soul-innocent contact you make when meeting in a different realm then the waking world, falsehoods having no place there. Not a passion thing, it was more a communication, an seeking of a little more discovery, of who we really are. I would say it was pleasantly surprising for both, softly intimate, it did not last long, and yet it was something when, pulling away, my lower lip held brief gently, coming free from between both of his, and as his head pulled away, our eyes on the other’s, faces still very close, his widened slightly in something of wonder as he breathed a whispered, “wow...”

That was it, no more than that. Something simple, pure if you allow me to say so. Just that kiss and then I woke up, smiling softly and feeling very good.

I wouldn’t mind it happening again, it was that nice. And why not? It was just a dream, no more and no less than that. People should enjoy those small moments during their dreamtime. An connection which sooths. Certainly it was an offset to everything else which has filled my dreams of late; things produced of stress and darkness.

I have a feeling it will not happen again though. Pessimism? Possibly. Pessimism is about all I have these days. It did help though, to offset things, even briefly. I am most thankful for that.

It had been a bad day for me, that Saturday. Painful emotionally. Nothing Emile had intended to happen, I know this. Only these days I am so exposed, so raw and open emotionally. It did not help that place where our friend was getting married. Harkness Memorial State Park. That was Peter’s place, you see. That pathetic “father” of mine’s. His “hang out” where he had many friends. Peter has always been attracted to “authority” and being the most likeable person that he is, he was good friends with many of the security people there for a time, back in the day.

Emile’s present was to bring his film cameras (EVERYONE else had digital). He wanted to take some black and white photos of the event for our friend. Of course this was wonderful, only as the ceremony commence, he left me. No problem, a few photographs, right? Only he did not come back, so I was left there, sitting alone amongst strangers, open, exposed, feeling so many memories of the past and as you saw, thinking much of a lost friend.

As it continued I started receiving looks. People wondering. Why had my partner left me during such a thing, a union ritual such as this?

Still wanting more images, Emile remained in the front row amongst strangers, and I was left, sitting alone in the back amongst the same.

He did not return until the couple were past and left. I was feeling much anger, much aloneness. My fault, I know. No blame, except I was upset at what I felt was an insensitiveness to my situation. Not the being left, but the being left alone when he knew how I was feeling about being here.

Did my best to get over it, and afterwards, we left the whole thing behind us and took a brief walk around the park. Went down to look at the ocean, both of us taking pictures of the barely seen boats, people fishing. Everything was very beautiful, the morning right up until noon not foggy, but a heavy mist over everything. The fall trees, shaped by ocean winds over time into a permanent “sweep” were surreal in their loveliness. There were butterflies everywhere; orange-winged Monarchs. They danced above the small flowers in the mostly brown and dampened grasses; they circled around us, meeting and spiraling up into the air. I hated to leave, to have to rush back to re-open the store...

Good night.