You’re a figment of my imagination and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re my dream man. You with your long, flowing hair as black as a raven, your strong handsome features with the square jaw and incredible eyes that make my knees go weak everything you look at me.
I stare at the artist’s depiction of you on the cover of my latest novel. The image came to me in a dream. And it seemed so real. You were alone, as usual, gazing up at the sky, your amazing dark brown eyes bright as the light hits your face. Your expression is serene as if you’re communing with God. Behind you are the clouds unfurling like thick mist above the mountains and blotting out the sky. Everything pales in comparison with you. Sometimes, I imagine you transforming into a hawk or eagle, stretch your wings and take to the sky because you don’t want to be confined to the pages of a book–correction, books.
Am I fool for falling in love with my own creation–a figment of my imagination? You exist in my mind but how I wish you were real. I find myself getting jealous of the women I have as your love interests. I want to be them. I want to be Josie, the wife you lost or Alicia, the one night stand or Lisa, the one you love to hate. I envy them. I wish I could trade places with them. Maybe I will write myself into the next novel. On paper, I will be free to articulate at length, the thoughts and fantasies I have been having about you. No holds barred.
I’m being foolish, aren’t I? I can’t help it. You are my greatest creation. Women adore you. They want their boyfriends and husbands to be you. I don’t have a man and if I did, I wouldn’t be faithful to him–at least not in my thoughts. And I would unfairly compare him to you. I’m single. And it’s better that way.
“A penny for your thoughts,” my friend Jackie’s amused voice interrupts my musings and I look up.
My eyes widen and my heart begins to pound like crazy while my mouth turns dry. Standing behind her is…you. I try to rise to my feet. Shock, excitement overwhelm me and I feel faint. You move forward like lightning and steady me. Your eyes meet mine and your warm breath brushes against my forehead. I feel as if I’m drowning in your eyes. You ask me something but I can’t make it out. I could only sit there and stare at you. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
“Are you all right?” Jackie asked. I look up at her. I’d forgotten she was even there.
I nodded. A glass of water is handed to me and I sip it. You’re still holding my shoulders. The deep concern on your face warms my heart. I manage a smile. “I’m fine, now.”
“That’s a relief,” Jackie said. “You look like you were ready to pass out.”
“I guess it’s because I haven’t eaten since this morning,” I lied.
“Before we order, I’d like you to meet Jolon.”
Jolon held out his large hand. “Pleased to meet you, Thandi.”
I put my hand in his, thinking how tiny it looked. “You look familiar.”
“Of course, he looks familiar,” Jackie exclaimed. “He’s the model I used for your sexy Cree character. When you described him to me, it sounded exactly like Jolon so I got in touch with him and asked him if he would be willing to be the face that would grace the covers of your books. He agreed. He wanted to meet the writer who’s made him famous. You wouldn’t believe how many women asked him for his autograph on our way over here.”
So, you are real. I smile. You’re no longer a figment of my imagination nor confined to the pages of a book nor my mind. I hope that this is the first of many meetings. I don’t want you to be my dream man. I just want you to be my man. And the way you are looking at me now and how you’re holding my hand longer than is necessary, makes my heart dance with hope.
This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for Monday’s prompt, fool, Tuesday’s prompt, stretch and today’s prompt, articulate. If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.