Elephant Bites

The still air choked of his perspiration as we continued to hold on to each other in the stuffy private cubicle. I ran my fingers down his spine and into his drenched hair, and quivered as I felt his tongue touched my ears. Then I knew immediately that I had again slipped into a dream. For only in dreamland would the heightened emotions seemed so surreal, yet as much profound as it would be short-lived; for only in dreamland would I be able to terminate my passion as quickly as the folding door had slipped open again, and then looked back and congratulate myself for having remembered it all. Fantasies it seemed could be warped to form this shape and that in a dream, yet they would seem every bit irrelevant and laughable in reality. I let it ran its full course, never once thought of reliving the tiniest fraction of what I was feeling when the show drew close, and yet, I realized, with a mix of disbelief and glee that some of these passion had indeed crossed over into the real world in the form of tiny love bites.

In the attempt to return the favour, I was told to wait for elephant-sized bites. Perhaps dreams do not terminate brutally, but traverse the day to play again when night falls. How could you tell?

BRAVEHEART ^[97]