Literally on the “dream” part, that is. Sometime this morning, I dreamed of a man who just blew me away. Maybe that isn’t the right term…but whatever the wording, he completely charmed me, without actually trying.

Where: at a church. At a freaky, icky megachurch. Why, oh why? I was completely rolling my eyes at being there, and he got that, but he also somehow was able to look past the joke of it all (even though he “got” why I rolled my eyes) to see the real Jesus behind it. It seems like he had some sort of formal role. Youth pastor? College? Something…he was working with youngish, single people.

sheesh…trying to get this down while I remember anything…

Oh — he was leading some sort of group therapy-type session, and I was giving him grief about it as a participant. Challenging him, making jokes, but somehow, he saw through me that I was serious about it, just trying to stay sane. Guess it was after that ended that we actually talked.

He liked my daughter. I loved watching him talk to her.

Hmmm…looks. Nice-looking, but not stop-the-car-gorgeous. Normal, but attractively normal. When he became beautiful was when he talked. His personality brought him up to drop-dead stunning — to me, anyway. He was smart, funny, loving, sensitive, oh, and did I mention smart?

And, at some point, he hugged me. I can still feel his warm hands on my back and arms, and I felt so…safe. Is that something an independant gal like me is allowed to admit? I wanted to just hold and touch, not even in any sexual way, just…exploring his face and learning the features by braille.

I lost a shoe. I was limping around the church standing on my tip-toes with my right foot to compensate for my lacking shoe, some sort of strappy heel. At some point, one of the guys (friends of “the” guy) came to me with a box of shoes that people had lost and told me that most of them were obviously someone else’s shoes, but this one (pulling one out) looked like it could belong to me. It wasn’t the right shoe, but it was tailored, elegant, and lovely in a box of platform flipflops and teenagerish clunky heels. I wasn’t touched, so much as I was relieved…and gratified…that he’d realized those other shoes couldn’t possibly be mine. I have grown-up taste, after all. (huh? on this part…)

I went with “the” guy back to his home, and there was a homemade pie, ready-to-bake, sitting on his steps. He explained that (female friend) had left it, that she often left him pies. For some reason, I wasn’t jealous. He had pets. A bunch of pets…mostly dogs. One dog in particular who “likes no one” walked up to me and climbed in my lap. I was in.

Sometime around this point, I woke up to my daughter’s climbling all over me in bed as if I were an obstacle course. The room was slightly cool, but I still felt warm all over, from a random person who many not exist in a random dream that could have been caused by last night’s pizza. Just the same, I’m enjoying the slight glow.

Within the past month or so, I decided that dating was a waste of time and that I just couldn’t be bothered to care (I’ve mentally written a post on that two or three times, but couldn’t even be bothered to write *that*). But this man…oh, if I met this guy…I think I could care. So maybe it wasn’t just me. Maybe it *was* them. Both, actually…they just weren’t right for me