The Dream

Darling, I had that dream again last night. You know which one I'm talking about. The one I have told you about before. The dream about the little red cottage with white corners and woodworks, with its small garden, out in the peaceful country, half an hour's drive from the city. Our house.

In my dream, the birds were noisy. The air was crisp in spite of the warm sun, and you had an orange Helly Hansen jacket on you to keep warm. You were standing in the garden, raking the autumn leaves in their yellow, orange and red shades. Maple, Ash, Birch. They were all over the lawn. You raked them up and put them in a little wicker basket. There was a big pile of leaves and dry branches in the back of the garden, where we were going to have a little private bonfire later that night, and grill hot dogs. Just you and me. As you filled the wicker basket up, you carried it over to the big pile of leaves on the back, and emptied the basket there, making the pile grow larger. A big Irish Wolfdog with grey furry coat ran around and jumped over the piles of leaves you had raked together, spreading some of them out. As you shouted at him, he looked at you, panting. I could have sworn that there was a smile over that dog's face.

I stepped out of the little house, dressed in a white cotton summer dress with tiny flowers scattered over it, and with a warming knitted cardigan over it. My little red purse hung over my left shoulder, and my hairdo was immediately messed up by the wind. I moved the hair out of my eyes with one hand, and I stood for a short while on the steps, just looking at you. You looked so handsome, even in that fluffy, worn out sweater and old pair of trousers. So tall and muscular, so...sensual. Darling, I must really be crazy about you, to find you attractive doing such a mundane work. In such clothing. So far from the elegant, intelligent man you are in your office. But to me, you are always attractive, always manly. I am still amazed that you love me back. My heart pounds faster, and a warm, wet feeling goes from my chest to my stomach. I am happy, just knowing you exist in this world. And I'm grateful. But that I will never tell you. Men should never be allowed to get cocky. I will only show it to you, by thousands of little actions, like massaging your shoulders when you come home from work, tired. Making us dinner when you are working in the garden. Leaving a full dinner plate in the micro for you when you're working late.

Finally, I walked up to you and kissed your soft, brown lips, and you grunted with surprise and delight as I put my tongue in your mouth and turned a mere affectionate kiss into a kiss of love and desire. You always awaken my love when I kiss you. You gave me a light squeeze, and I noticed that you were careful not to hug me too hard. You put your hand over my big rounded stomach and caressed our not yet born child through my dress, through my tight skin.

-I’m going to go grocery shopping, I said. Do you want to come with me or would you rather stay at home and finish what you’ve started?

You kissed me again while you did some thinking, with a quick glance at the lawn.

-I’ll go with you, you said. I can finish this when we come home.

-Good, I said, and added, as I wrinkled my nose: It's getting kind of hard to fit behind the wheel with this stomach.

You smiled, and put your arm around me. We called for our dog, and went to the car as he came bouncing through the leaves towards us. You placed him in the back while I got in the front seat. He looked through the bars, panting, wagging his tail, excited at coming along, at going by car. He loves cars. Before we drove away, you helped me fasten my seat belt. We had to tie it under my stomach, it just won't reach across. You kissed my cheek and got into the driver's seat. We drove off.

I'm waiting for the dream to come true, my love.