Every night, I close my eyes to pay my soulmate a visit in his otherworldly garden. Some nights, I find him pensive and perched on a stone bench near the center fountain. On other nights, he’s trimming and clipping bushes along the great stone walls at the garden’s perimeter. Once, I found him sweetly sleeping under the strong thick elm tree branches wrapped in a wool blanket. We speak to each other like old friends, and he begs me to recount even the most boring details of my day. This is how it has been ever since I turned 16. He’s been my best friend, my confidante, a shoulder to cry on, all those cheesy things that teenagers say about the people they care about the most. But, we can feel things blossoming from friendship into something more. I know we both feel it. He has to feel it.

Tonight, I pace the bedroom floor in my silk pajamas hoping to summon up the courage to ask him all things that have been on my mind. It is the night of my eighteenth birthday after all. He owes me a present anyway. The thought of an ethereal gift exchange in the dreamscape brings a flurry of butterflies in my stomach and a smirk to my face. Enough stalling. I climb into my gigantic bed and beg sleep to cut through the anxiety and pull me into the garden.

“Good evening, princess,” his voice is especially musical and deep tonight. I scurry off to find him waiting in the arbor tunnel beneath the jasmine flowers.

“Hello,” I beam at him and reach out to touch his arm. It feels too real to be a dream. “Do you know what today is?”

“Of course, it’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” His hulking muscular arms pick me up gently to skip me playfully.

“Do you know what I want more than anything in the world?”

“What is it? Name it and we will dream it so.” His hands are still settled on my hips even though our spin under the stars is long since over. A breeze sends the scent of the place heavy upon us, and he pulls me just a little closer to shield me from the cold.

I look up at him through my lashes willing the words out of my lips, but they never come. I shuffle a little nervously, and he smiles. The breeze dies off and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and like a perfectly choreographed moment, he sinks his hand into my hair completely and pull me into the most perfect kiss. I loose myself completely in the moment, even my knees give way and he scoops me up gently against his body. Warms radiates from my core. When my shock wears away after a few seconds, I reach up and turn this lovely romantic moment into something more. This next part is where my anxiety has taken root. Will he shy away from me now?

I take my teeth and sink them into his lower lip then suck at it hard. I try to avoid eye contact, but the fire in his eyes is hard to miss. His body has stilled completely, clearly unsure of the next best move. I take the lead. It’s now or never. I pry open his lips with my tongue and get to work showing him how deeply I need him. Before long, he is returning my intensity. I am so pleasantly surprised that a soft smile and a little moan escape my lips into his mouth.

“Oh, little flower,” he moans back in reply.

A moment, or perhaps an eternity, later he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to that place beneath the elm tree. It’s the only place in the whole garden I have ever seen him sleep. We have never once met there. It always seem to be the most private space to him. When we arrive, I discover it has been decorated with hand tied bouquets, blankets, and jars of fireflies. He lays me down beneath those branches, planting a tender kiss on my forehead.

“I have waited so long to feel your kisses,” he half whispers, seemingly to himself. “It’s hard to believe it took until our last night in this incredible place to finally savor that moment.”

A deep panic sets in. “What are you talking about?”

“None of this is for forever,” he continues, now sitting with me and scanning my form with abandon. “I just want us to enjoy and soak in every detail. It’s too precious to lose.”

“I don’t understand,” tears well in my eyes now. “How can this be the last dream together?”

“It’s a curse, my love. It took us 16 years to find each other, so only two years were left to spend together.”

“Well, can’t we just find each other again? Like, in the real world this time?”

He runs his fingertips across my lips ever so softly now, but he won’t meet my teary gaze.

“I have been keeping a secret from you, flower,” he says, “and I have to come clean before we part. Do you remember when you told me how exciting it is to fall asleep each night because you knew you were on your way to me?”

I nod, completely unable to breath.

“Well, I don’t fall asleep to come meet you. Flower, I never leave this garden.”

“What does that mean? Of course you do. You tell me about your day each night.” Tears come hot and steady down my cheeks and he works feverishly to swipe them away. He cannot possibly say what I think he is going to say.

“I am already gone, flower.”

“No,” I choke. “You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not. You can feel its true. Can’t you?”

I shake my head to erase the image of my pain reflected back in his eyes. It’s true. We have never lid to each other in this place, even when feelings made things so incredibly difficult. I cry inconsolably now, and he wraps me up in his arms. I fit perfectly in his lap, but oh, what a terribly blissfully impermanent comfort it is to be here. Time passes like this for a while. Before I know it the sun is starting to color the sky above our little garden. A fresh panic sets in and I grab hold of him. I cannot lose him now. Especially now that I know the truth.

“You’ll have to let me go,” he says, running his fingers through my long dark hair. “You have a whole life waiting for you.”

I kiss him and shake my head no, no, no. I pull his hand to my cheek and nestle in trying to will us to be linked somehow.

He lifts my chin softly with his fingers so that my gaze must meet his, and now he’s welling up with tears at the sight of how close dawn is to the horizon. “You have been more heaven than a man like me deserves.”