Mist Complexions, Pt. 2

Man of My Dreams at Brooklyn Bar, or, Lust - w4m (Williamsburg)

It had been six months or so since my car broke down somewhere in Indiana. It was towed and I found a cheap motel for the night. In that filthy bed I dreamt of a man I'd never met outside of slumber, but a man I'd seen behind my closed lids for years.

Fast forward to this past Sunday. You emerged from the ether of sleep into candlelit reality, man made manifest in flesh. We were sitting across from each other in the back room at Pete's Candy Store. Field Guides were about to finish their set when I saw you glancing at me with a glimmer of recognition. I was too nervous, and too shocked, to approach you after the show, and you must have been equally flummoxed. Have you been dreaming of me all these years as well?

Since Sunday, my dreams have become steamier, our encounters now primal. Sometimes we are lions on the savannah, wolves on the tundra. Always we are lustful.

If you are you, you'll know who I am. Be my valentine?


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