You may be right. I had thought that the difference between "loved" and "was in love with" was maybe artificial or immaterial, but maybe that's because I'm a bit cynical, or because I hadn't had this dream yet. it wasn't him, but it almost could have been. a more vulnerable version of him, though, a more cups than swords him. So we're at school at like a pep assembly or something. He rests his head against me, it's nice. His cheek presses warmly against mine, getting a little closer than you would in school when there's people watching. Peripherally I see his lips, his. Mouth searching. Uncomfortably visible, I move away slightly. He gets the message. A moment later, he says, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you forever, but I get too scared." Because I already know what it is, I slide the MacBook towards him and say, "so type it. It'll be easier" After a moment he slides it back and I read his short, urgent unintentional poem about how he's loved me, is aflame with passion, always longing. Technically, the dream ends there and I am awake, but my on-purpose dream continues. we're still leaning against each other, so I relax into him, squeeze him a little, the contact of joy and of yes, and sit like that for a minute, so that before I start typing, he too can indulge in the sheer pleasure and relief of knowing, before I start, what it is I'm about to say.