Brett Lewitt
It was a situation that never would have happened in real life – Brett Lewitt, the most popular guy in class, spending time, alone, with me. Never would have happened. And if it had, it would have been in-between a pick-up basketball game, when all the other guys would have happened to have walked away to get a drink of water, leaving us alone by default.
But not like this. Not in this romantic way, with the two of us walking, talking, and sharing even the occasional touch. Back in our high-school skins, but as if the egos were peeled away and just the most tender, beautiful inner flesh of us left exposed.
This was a Brett I never knew in real life – not that it was a surprise that he was in there, but just one I never knew. He was gentle, quiet, humble, almost shy, yet confident. A real gentleman – taking my hand to help lift me up off the ground. Almost gallant. Yet still him – the nice soft, wavy jet-black hair and olive skin, the athletic body that was growing into a young hunk the girls would go crazy for. The nice dark freckles on his face – almost like beauty marks. He was beautiful. Handsome and hunky, yes, but really, beautiful.
And he made me feel beautiful – like I was a princess, or some venerated noble woman made to feel completely honored and respected. It felt amazing, and like something my soul was so hungry for – the respect and value paid that was far deeper than any superficial sense experience of romantic love or lust. Honor and respect – emotions that, like precious elements that are mined deep below the earth's surface, must be sought mined well below the earth's crust. I've been tilling so much soil close to the surface, sowing and reaping lust, infatuation, and the kind of love you feel when you first fall in love – new relationship energy. I've picked those fruits, dug them out of the earth, and picked them immediately so as they had no chance to rot on the vine. I enjoyed them like a fresh, juicy, sumptuous tomato, red, sweet, and bursting all over my lips. And they nourished me, but the pleasure was soon gone. A burst of sun – a taste of summer or a summer romance – captured in a small tomato. And while it was exquisite, it couldn't last. I didn't realize how my soul craved something deeper, heavier, and more substantial to balance out the nutrition.
This dream was like my previous with Furio – I was the one sought-after, venerated, adored, and well-tended.