For about the past month, my dreams have been filled with an anonymous, perfect man.
While I slumber, he smiles at me and we laugh as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. He's tall and solid with a broad chest and rough hands. When he squeezes me close I can smell him; soap, fresh laundry and a bit of cologne. He makes me feel safe and protected.
He has a strong jaw that he keeps clean-shaved. He dresses decently in button down shirts. He has gentlemanly manners. He has a bright, eager smile. He has warm eyes that crinkle at the corners when he looks at me.
He never kisses me on the head like a grandfather but instead kisses me sweetly on my neck.
While I sleep we walk, holding hands. We gaze appreciatively out at the sights, the people, the scenery. We sit on a bench outside basking in the sunshine talking and laughing.
We cook together and discuss our day. We talk about current events. We seldom sit in front of the television other than to watch a movie together.
He's handy and he enjoys completing little maintenance jobs happily together. He always finishes what he starts.
He loves to spend time with me but he doesn't need me to be his everything. He has friends and interests of his own but lets me know it would be better if I joined him and his friends. He's a social, friendly man who enjoys my friends as well.
He doesn't judge. He's caring. He volunteers. He's helpful.
He loves to surprise me in small, meaningful ways like picnic lunches and thoughtful little notes.
He loves to travel and dance. He loves music. He enjoys a good beer or glass of wine. We take long Sunday rides on his motorcycle.
We see things pretty much in the same light but we enjoy each others' differing opinions on occasion.
He's confident and assertive. He believes I can do anything I set my mind to. He encourages and supports me. He defends me.
Mr. Sandman, is that you?
Or is God telling me something?