I went to sleep last night, and as I closed my eyes, I was put into a really, really unexpected situation.

I was in a hot and steamy room, the background too blurred for me to make out. My dream self was slowly making my way down some muscular guy’s abdomen, giving him light, feathery, sensual kisses along the way. His hands were on my head as I went lower. I could just barely hear his voice, but it sent ripples down my spine and made the heat within me rise to an unbearable level. Just as I reached his p****, I stopped, looking up at him with a smirk on my face before rising up. He’s taller than me, but at least half of a foot. I can’t see his face clearly, just that s***-eating grin that makes my heart melt, but his hair is gorgeous, dark – almost black. I reach up and run my hands through his dark floppy curls, my finger scratching at his scalp. Pulling his face to mine, we kiss, our bodies flush against one another, and I sigh in contentment, all my worries fading away. I can feel his biceps encircle me, and it makes me feel safe.

The dream beings to fade just as he grabs one of my legs to wrap around his waist. The urge to have s** is so strong, I can feel it in my bones.

Then he too begins to fade. Just before he does, his lips brush my ear and he whispers “wait for me”. And then he’s gone, and I’m left there in a dark room, rain falling, flushed, and with a lust that is unfulfilled.

For the life of me, I cannot remember his face. Part of me thinks I know who he was supposed to be – and maybe that scares me. It definitely scares me. But the other part of me wants to pretend that maybe he’s my future, and that might mean he’s not who I think he is. But now the urge is there, and I don’t think I can look at my friend or speak to him the same way again. At least not for a while.