Something as odd as an intense dream can sometimes spark new material for a writer. Recently, I experienced this. Starting something new. Sharing a small snippet.
“Be with someone who loves you for who you are, not what they want you to be.” Unknown
“Let yourself be silenty drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” Rumi
Untitled All poetry, lyrics, book excerpts, and new material belongs to Tiffany Luv Wright Copyright 2012-13
“I dreamed of this. This city, all of it. This very moment.” she said ever so softly. She was standing at the window overlooking the city. New York City was busy. It was in constant motion, the heartbeat of the city never slowing or pausing. It was what she loved. She loved the eclectic way lives were joined in such a tiny space, with the high rises hiding the very people she adored. She spent many a day just sitting on the park bench watching the different people.
She did not know she would meet him, only believing it was a recurring dream that wouldn’t go away. She did not tell him that she dreamed of him, too. He was in her dreams long before her feet touched the concrete jungle that spread out like the wings of a high flying eagle soaring with unstoppable power. She breathed in, and felt him behind her.
He moved her hair off of her shoulder. She could feel his touch before his fingers grazed her pale skin. He had been so silent after she spoke that she could almost hear his heart beating fast in the dusty apartment that was being bathed in the afternoon summer sun.
Standing at the window, in the warm sun, his touch sent a shiver up her spine, and she relaxed. What would happen now? He would think she was crazy. When did this happen? At what point had the strong friendship turned into a yearning for his body to be next to hers? She sighed every so slightly. He knew she was quirky, and pulling an old soul and young heart behind her. When she had moved here to get away from the middle of the country, she hadn’t expected to find him. He was unlike any other man she had been around.
He never seemed to doubt her intuition, and he wasn’t afraid of what she was.
But the part about being able to dream up her own paths in life, was not something she had shared. She thought he might have already known. The way he looked in to her eyes as if he could see straight through to her soul. It was as if he felt her coming, it was as if he had seen her before she had even arrived.
She thought back to the very first moment she saw him. She had been in New York City for only a few short months. The winter was quickly moving in. She was moving too fast down the sidewalk and slipped, dropping all of her belongings she was carrying onto the sidewalk full of fast moving people. In the Midwest someone would have stopped to help her, but she knew it was different here. That was why she moved to the big city in the first place. She wanted to be by herself. She wanted to be able to survive among the lights. She was never afraid of the dark, why in her thirties, should she start now? She had brought her daughter with her, running away from the slow paced and close minded small town.
He passed her quickly, and when he passed she was drawn to look up at him. His eyes met hers, and he kept going. He stopped a few steps away, shaking his head and turning around. When he bent over to help her pick up the scattered items from her bag, his eyes met hers once again. His eyes were kind.
He was handsome. He was wearing a Yankees ball cap, a huge coat, and jeans. Obviously he was prepared for the colder weather moving in later that day. He had dark brown eyes, and a rugged jawline, but he was only about 5’10 with an muscly build. He had darker skin than she did, and a line beard.
“People can be such assholes.” he mumbled as he helped her pack up her things. She smiled at him, a little taken by his rugged good looks.
“It’s okay, I’m tough. Thank you for helping me pick my shit, I mean stuff, up.” her cheeks flushed as she let the curse word slip out. She had a habit of always letting them into her sentences. It was definitely a bad habit.
He laughed at her and helped her up on the sidewalk.
They had talked the rest of the walk to her place, and she didn’t once get a threatening or uneasy feeling around him. The friendship had grown over the next few months into something more intense. Each feeling the need to not let so much as an hour go by without a text or message of some kind. But it had never crossed the line.
Now standing in the dusty, sunlight, she couldn’t figure out when she started to need him so much. Was it in the Spring? Was it the late night conversations as she talked him through another failed date or they talked about the meaning of fate and the purpose of their lives? Or was it that very first initial touch as his fingers grazed hers on the New York sidewalk?
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked quietly. Resting his lips on the dip in her neck and shoulder, while his fingers traced out her arms. “Are you afraid of the city boy from the East coast?” his thick city accent bleeding through as he chuckled to himself, thinking back to their conversation about her relationships with the good ‘ole country boys from her small town life.
She smiled and turned to him. She wasn’t. She had never been afraid of him.
“No. I’m not just some simple country girl, you know. I can take care of myself.” she smiled again.
His fingers traced her cheek, and then the outline of her lips. She knew what was going to happen. It was their first kiss.
This could be the kiss she had been searching for her entire life. She exhaled. Her heart was beating slowly, but starting to increase. She wasn’t nervous, only anxious for his lips to touch hers. It would either ruin everything, or be the beginning of the end for the both of them. She looked at him, standing in the dusty light, looking back into her eyes. He was wearing a white tank top undershirt, and shorts. His ball cap turned slightly to the side on his head and he had stripped his shoes off at her door. His tan much darker since it was the middle of the summer. His lips were perfect. Over the months she had learned of his Italian and Irish background. Even though his skin was much darker than hers, she could see the faint freckles on his shoulders. He had shaved his dark hair at the beginning of the summer, and it suited him.
He mumbled something in Italian, and it was so quiet she couldn’t make it out. Over the months she had learned to pick up a few words here and there. He laughed because he knew she was clueless.
He took her by the hips and dug his fingertips in, pulling her closer to him. Then moving them to her face. How could any woman resist his touch? She thought to herself…if this was they way he handled them?
Slowly he lightly kissed her lips. He stopped to breath her in, rubbing his nose on the tip of hers. She moved into him closer. Wanting him to drink her in.
He stopped, “Our first kiss, I’ve wanted to do this for a while, you know?” his crooked smile teasing her.
She was breathless but spoke, “And you’re not afraid of a simple, country girl?” she whispered to him.
He loved her slight accent that she tried so hard to cover up.
He shook his head and pulled her lips on to his with fury this time.