Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Dreams.
I used to have them—before the nightmares started.
I dreamed of nice guys, love…normalcy.
Things like reading the Sunday paper in bed with my lover.
But who needs dreams when your reality is filled with a string of faceless dominating men in uniform? Men that pack a thick bulge and are only too happy to satisfy my deviant sexual cravings.
Me. That's who.
And then HE walked through the door and shared with me, a total stranger, his intimate dream of love. Damn him for verbalizing every single detail of the dream I buried long ago.
And now I don’t know how I'm going to live without that dream.
Or him.
Author Julie A. Richman is a native New Yorker living deep in the heart of Texas. A creative writing major in college, reading and writing fiction has always been a passion.
Julie began her corporate career in publishing in NYC and writing played a major role throughout her career as she created and wrote marketing, advertising, direct mail and fundraising materials for Fortune 500 corporations, advertising agencies and non-profit organizations. She is an award winning nature photographer plagued with insatiable wanderlust.
Julie and her husband have one son and a white German Shepherd named Juneau.
