You’ve Lost That Feeling (REM Episode #03)

dsc_4352© 2016 City of Broken Dreams

I’ve only held her on one occasion. It was a long time ago. But not so long ago that I can’t remember what she felt like. I held her from behind: the front of my body pressed tightly up against the back of hers; one hand wrapped firmly around her throat, while the other hand wandered and roamed south of her waistline, eager to get lost in her deep, dark depths. She is a petite, slender little thing, but hidden beneath the PVC catsuit that she wore and her tattooed flesh, all I could feel was solid muscle tensing beneath my roving, groping hands. I remember thinking that holding her was like holding onto a goddamn python.       

But if this is a dream, then there is nothing stopping me from holding her once more. All I have to do is simply step closer to her, walk up behind her, and—

“Catch me if you can,” she says, giving me a quick backwards glance. And then she’s off like a shot—like a bullet fired from the barrel of a gun.

So now I get to witness the memory of her taut, compact musculature rendered into glorious real time—as she runs from me, as she sprints down the dirt-and-gravel path that leads to the colossal wind turbine that stands like a forgotten god amongst the gilded wheat field that has become the setting for our little game of psychic cat and mouse.

And so I give chase. But she no longer brings to mind the likeness of a python; she is now a jungle cat: a sleek black panther running through the dark, dank rain forest that inhabits the forgotten abyss of my absent heart. As she runs, her raven black bob bounces around her bare shoulders, and just like magic, my eyes are suddenly and temporarily deceived into seeing a large black crow in mid-flight. Reptile. Feline. Avian. What kind of unholy ghost do I dare dream of? 

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