I love dreams. The best thing about them is that fleeting moment when you’re between reality and fantasy. When just for one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is real; that it really happened.
I had a dream about Stephen last night. He fucked me against a wall in an empty, dark alley. I couldn’t tell exactly where we were. It was hot, and it felt good. Probably the greatest thing that’s happened to me lately. But not for real.
I’ve noticed myself unvoluntarily developping some kind of sick obsession with him, and I have to admit it’s freaking me out. I’ve never — ever — been attracted to a guy before.