His Arms

I see him in my dreams. I don't know what he really looks like, since he never takes on the same look twice. He always looks different, feels different, and yet I always know that it's him. And sometimes, like last night... He's a shadowed face. A glimpse of a smile, a fleeting laugh, a whisper in my ear... That's all I remember when I wake up.

He's not always there in my dreams, only sometimes. And yet I feel like he's always waiting for me. I just wish I knew who he was. I always feel safe with him, like he's the one thing that will keep me sane if everything crashes to the floor. It's like he's my missing puzzle piece, do you know what I mean?

And when I try to remember what he looks like, or what his voice sounds like, I come up with nothing. I can't remember anything. I remember his presence, but that's all. I remember that he was with me the entire night last night, when I was particularly upset. He didn't even ask me why I was upset, he just understood, and I remember he held me through the whole night. No words were needed.

I'd never felt safer in his arms, so warm and strong wrapped around me. It was so comforting. It was like being loved with every fibre of one's being. Even when I woke up this morning, I could feel the ghost of his embrace.

Whoever you are... I hope we meet soon. Wait for me, wherever you are, whoever you are. I genuinely hope that we'll be able to meet someday.

I assure you that he looks nothing like this picture, but for some reason this picture reminded me of him a bit.