With whom I share the most awesomely open relationship, open in as many senses as we can muster. I declare here just a bit of my love to you...

"It's funny, I'm so dependent on inspiration when I write... I have major issues doing it on command. I wanted to write you a nice letter for your birthday, and I started one, but it wasn't coming out right and I didn't like it, so it never happened, or was never finished anyways. I wanted to write about what it felt like for me to not trust you for a few days, to be angry at you. Strange feeling, let me tell you. I marvelled at my ability to go numb and continue without calling you every day every three minutes, not that it was the greatest feeling in the world. In the end, I just felt as if some comfortable bed that I had been perfectly molded into was ripped out from under my sleepy body. I felt as if I spent nights without sleep, though I still moved from day to day as if nothing had happened. How was that possible?

How on earth I could continue living with ease without having felt myself perfectly nestled and sleeping in my comfortable bed the night before. A few days went by with this question unanswered, in which I grew colder and colder... Once I had been led happily back to the familiar place, fumbling a bit in the dark but eventually coming to rest again in my favorite niche, I realized what it was I missed, and why it was that I could keep on going for so long-- it wasn't sleep I was lacking, it was dreams. You see, I realized my bed was a special dream inducing bed, dreams that helped the next day go faster, sweeter, slower, crazier and softer... My dreams were gone, but even for just a few days...I sorely missed them. My dreams of you, of us, of a future together. For those few days, I never stopped loving you, or doubted your love for me, but my dreams suddenly dried up. I didn't feel them at night, I couldn't recreate old ones in the morning, I was completely unable to construct fancy ones in the air to share secretly with myself while I lay in bed and held my breasts in my hands.

When we sleep together, it isn't the sleep that makes us wake the next morning so refreshed, it's the dreams we share at night, the ones that ignite in my wistful mind, flow from my ears into your chest, through your heart, into your lungs, up into your mind and out with your sweet breath, blowing back onto me, traveling througn my stomach, filling out my body, tickling the sensitive areas between my legs, giving Johnny a clue that something is up. And that's what I missed.

Not a day goes by now that I don't have to force myself to leave my dreams behind, to remember to take every moment step by step, every day dance by dance, every month number by number, every year act by act.

My dreams waver in the sunlight, fade into the fog. They stand up against a barrage of doubts, and glow under the light of universal approval, even come back in full force after a going into hiding for a few days. They exist in paradox. beautiful paradox, dreams of indefinite strength and inconceivable fragility. And I've grown addicted to them. Addicted to you..."