There is a distant slam of the door in the hallway, followed by echoing sound of steps nearing the elevator. On the construction site nearby, workers started banging against the iron bars. The Christmas tree in the corner of the room is still dipped in darkness, the gingerbread hearts that decorate it recognizable thanks to the dim street light. My consciousness is still somewhere between two states: in this world I just attempt to see the red digits of the alarm clock.
07:04
I review the last moments of my dream. The manliest out of manliest men in my everyday-life-proximity made love to me. The color of his skin is someone's else's, so is possibly his face, but my dream decided it was him.
The impression of making love before the Monday's dawn stays with me for the whole day. It disappears only with numerous other dreams that follow me each night. Just one pleasurable thought remains: that it is no more unpleasant to wake up from a dream of sleeping with another man.
Physically, I am perfectly ready for a new guy.
