It happened on a dawn of a Monday while I was sleeping, obviously.
I don’t know of the place, but I remember passing by mountains while riding a scooter with a friend. Just a few meters away is a handsome guy I don’t recognize with another girl, riding one as well, following us. We stopped on a hill and took pictures for a while. Then my friend left me.
I looked around and saw the guy sitting on his scooter, smiling at me; the other girl was nowhere and I didn’t care at all. I went to his direction, stood beside him and started taking pictures of us. (I also don’t understand why, it’s a dream anyway.) We were leaning and smiling at each other, chuckling even.
Then the magic happened. He kissed me. It was a sweet act, but somehow eerie. Imagine yourself kissing back a complete stranger and actually loving it. Just, wth?!
They say that once you wake up from a dream you already forgot more than half of it. But I tried to savor that very moment. I kept in mind the gentle way he kissed me, and told myself that would be nice for a first kiss. (Yes, I never had a first kiss. And yes, that’s awfully weird.)
I woke up when his face left mine. I almost felt it was real, and how I wished it was.
This is in response to the Daily Post’s writing prompt To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.