When Sleep Whispered His Name
A calling disguised as a dream
She woke with the shape of him still wrapped around her breath. The room was quiet, hot sun bleeding through the curtains, but inside her, it was still night. Her skin remembered him before her mind did— the weight of his arms, the steadiness of his gaze, the way he’d held her like he never left. The way he was there— completely, unquestionably there— had undone her. What stunned her the most— was how real it felt. Visually— Emotionally Energetically. The chemistry between them—alive, magnetic, unmistakable. She could feel the temperature of the room shift, the way his presence curled around her spine, the way her body—her soul—responded. It was exactly how it had always been. The pull from her heart. That heat stirring and moving beneath the silence. That sense of being read even she said nothing. She lay there for a long time, on the soft pillows surrounding her. Eyes closed, heart cracked in that unbearable way. It wasn’t just a dream. It was a visitation. .
For the One Who Feels It Too
Thank you for reading this piece of memory.
If it stirred something inside you
a moment, a longing, a quiet ache—
then this story has done what it came to do.
Though written from a personal place,
it was always meant to echo beyond me.
May it meet you where you are.
In the silence, in the remembering,
in the rhythm only your heart understands.
I'm grateful you're here.