Everything is always perfect...in dreams...

....which is what I did about him all night—dream, that is. Nothing sexual, just lots of love in everything we said & did, so much tenderness in our interactions—didn't want to open my eyes, just wanted lay there forever, in that state between sleep & consciousness, & continue feeling that perfect love surrounding me.

Then I did (open my eyes), & of course realized he wasn't here—how disconnected we are—& can't put my finger on anything specific that could have caused it, save for stress & strain on both of us from Katrina. Now, instead of love, I'm filled with this all-consuming pain. My solution? Two Xanax & two (large) glasses of wine kill most any horrible feeling. God, I'd kill, tho, to hear his voice over the phone saying "Hey Sweetheart, it's me"...