Surreal Ecstasy Read Online Free Page A

powerful lover, but not too
much where one would wonder if he bedded hundreds of women.
    Yes,
he would have everything a woman could possibly want and, on top of it all, he
wouldn't be the least bit conceited about it. Oh, he would throw a joke around
now and again, perhaps agreeing when I'd tell him how perfect he was—but he
just wouldn't think of himself that way. He would not be insecure, and didn't
need the ego boosts.
    He
would not be chauvinistic; he would respect women and teach all boys to do the
same. He would never, in the heat of an argument, tell me that I was a terrible
person or that he would never marry a person like me. He would never take cheap
shots at me—verbally. Physically, the thought of hurting me would be a strange,
foreign notion. It would make him feel pain to know that he caused it for me.
    He
would care about fellow humans, animals, and the environment, but not to
comical proportions. He would be one of the strongest men I knew, but you'd
never know it because he wouldn't advertise it; he wouldn't need to. He would
not be hot-headed and suddenly get into a fight because the waiter at the diner
looked at him funny. He would be mature and know that if someone offended him,
it would be that person's problem and not his. But if hell did freeze over and
he did get in a fight, he'd knock the other guy flat in mere seconds because he
was that strong, that powerful, and driven by the kind of energy that only the
most enlightened souls can have.
    He
would be perfect in every way. And I would love him so, so much.
    I
opened my eyes and studied that boring wall again. I heard a faraway machine
beep, followed with the sounds of at least a few pairs of feet shuffling about.
    Well,
at least now I knew that there was a living hospital staff here, and that I
wasn't stuck in some zombie wasteland.
    I
sat up slowly and studied my hospital room with less discrimination than
before. A TV was bolted in the upper corner near the door, and turning to my
right, I saw a little table next to my cardboard bed. On the table were the TV
remote, a telephone, a tan plastic pitcher, and tan plastic cup.
    I
reached over to pour some water in the cup. As I took a sip, I could feel the
cool water soothe its way down my body, relaxing and comforting me.
    Somehow,
I felt alive. The very thought of this man, the possibility of his very
existence, brought me to a happier, more secure place in my heart. I believed
he was out there, somewhere on this earth. I had to believe, because if he didn't
exist, then there would be nothing to look forward to, no hope to cling to that
would bring me from a world of pain to a world of bliss.
    And
so I curled up on my cardboard bed, slightly grinning, paper blanket pulled up
to my chin like a child, and rested almost peacefully.
    * * *
    My
second dream came to me in the form of a fantasy, starring a familiar face.
    I
was in a meadow, sitting on the grass. A soft blanket was thrown over what
looked like a manhole cover, and a picnic basket sat tranquilly on one corner
of the blanket.
    I
heard grass-steps behind me and turned around to see a man approaching. The sun
was shining behind him, making it difficult, if not impossible, to see his
face. Despite that, however, I knew who he was. He was the only constant in my
life, sticking by my side for as long as I could remember.
    When
I was little, I'd named him Friend.
    "Hi
again. I've been waiting for you," I told him playfully.
    "I've
been here for a while. You just didn't choose to see me." Friend remained
still, standing a few feet away from me, the details of his body and face
always maddeningly concealed in the brightness.
    "How
can you choose to not see someone?" I wondered idly, playing with a corner
of the blanket.
    "You
had to turn around to see me, didn't you?"
    I
bit my lip and pondered this, confused. Not coming to any grand conclusions, I
avoided the topic altogether. "I'm sorry I have to use you as my scapegoat
all the time. You must be