He came to me every night, in my dreams. He was the focus of my peaceful night. He was someone lost, someone I would never find nor see. We stood in that field of summer flowers, the wind blowing my hair in a swaying motion and his eyes staring into my soul, every night. He was beautiful, curled black hair, topaz eyes, and he was always dressed in Victorian riding pants and boots, and a white slightly unbuttoned shirt. I didn't know his name, but I knew I loved him. He would caress my cheek, his fingers as gentle as the breeze and the world seemed motionless.
Who was this man that haunted my dreams, made me love him, and then disappeared with the morning light? How did you find a person you weren't sure existed? These were too many questions for me to answer at 7 am. I had a life I was a student and a hard working woman. I needed to focus on my goals, not on silly dreams. But try as I may he haunted me, followed me through my day, daring me to drift in and out of reality. If only I knew his name, or anything about him. Would I be able to move on if I knew who he was? Probably not. He was so much a part of dreams; he was slowly becoming my all that I thought was real.