Sunday, 24 April 2016

I dreamt of her.

First of all, fortunately, it wasn't a wet dream. It was just a dream, which made me feel pleasant for a while.

She was an adult in that dream. Still short, she was clad in a black top tank, which made her look sexy. I had no sexual appeal on her at all, though. The fact is that she invited me to her house, which was surprising. It seemed like she has transformed and finally became matured. Her house was white and clean, but some parts were a little messy. I don't remember the details of the items at her house. I sat with her in the dining room, at morning, when nothing but whiteness was the clear hint. Throughout this whole dream, she was smiling, and I felt that she was more matured than me. She cooked for me some breakfast and put it on the transparent glass table, and she looked at me while I was eating in a hectic manner. She was pretty. I wanted to hug her.

It's not because I still like her or whatever, but I do feel that whenever I spot her on other people's Instagram photographs, I feel that it's such a waste. She's really quite pretty, in my opinion. Somehow, her personality says the otherwise and I feel that that's not very good of her.

I daydream of the day when she suddenly approaches me and implores for my apology, or seeing each other at overseas alone, without any acquaintance. With joy, I think I'll talk to her and link coincidence to having a meal together. I've always wanted to reconcile with her, but situations didn't allow me to do so. Probably, when we become older and more matured, I hope this happens and I wish I can still remember you. I wish fervently for her to do so, too.

I don't want her to be my girlfriend, however. I guess she will feel the same too. Unless she has proven to me that her personalities have changed and stop influencing me to her Christianity, I won't ever start liking her.

The moments that I hate nowadays are when I can relate to love songs closely.

It was a dream. It was a pleasant dream.

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