Micro-Fiction: Countdown to Three O’Clock

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six……Why do seconds take so long when you are waiting?  She said she would be here at three o’clock.  Just a few seconds more.

My dream, my angel.  

Well, yes actually; both.  An angel that appears in my dreams.  Her last visit was only a few hours ago in my waking-dream time and she said she would return when I was fully awake – now! at three this afternoon.

Warm air drifts past my neck and the hairs rise on my arms.  I am sweating and my eyes start peering around, popping out of the sockets.  Nothing except the feeling and expectation of more.

I feel a touch where no one except me has touched before. I see no one.  Nothing. But I feel the presence.   

Close my eyes, focus internally, back to dreamtime.

The touch becomes firmer, almost a grasp, and I am responding.  I smile and squint through tight lids.  

A golden aura, crimson and silver wings from the clean uncluttered shoulder line. Blond hair falling around the neck.  Blue eyes looking directly into mine. The lips, oh those lips. I lean forward to meet them and the draft of air increases to a breeze.  I am drifting before it with no power of my own, losing all. Feeling the lips. A sigh behind draws my attention and I glance back seeing my own image.

 The breeze increases.  I am gone.

***

Words © Ron Dickerson

Image from domdeen at FreeDigitalPhotos.Net (we will use it again later, for some haiku by Jo!)

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