One of the worst things in the world is to wake up from a nice dream.

At that moment, you feel like something lovely has been denied to you and no matter what you do, you can never go back to it.

Last night I dreamt I was in New York and I was there by myself. I looked down on my phone and scanned through some photos of random strangers I had taken. I was in the city to explore. I had time and I had to be nowhere in particular. I was free to explore.

My phone was doing something else too.

It was giving me instructions of places to go and see and I was letting it take me there.

It felt like I was flying above people going on about their everyday lives and it was taking me to places that were about the city. Through streets, alley ways, along the river, and busy neighbourhoods filled with street life. It was inspiring and comfortable. I sat back to let my phone take me anywhere it suggested. I felt safe that I couldn’t get lost because it would guide me home. I was there to sit back and enjoy the ride.

The last trip however, things got a bit dark. It took me under a dark bridge and I was skimming above the Hudson River with its brown dirty water. I saw a pontoon that was dark and dusty and I had a bit of anxiety looking at it thinking “what if a child fell from there?” but I let that thought pass and I continued flying looking above me at the girders of the underside of the dark bridge. They seemed dangerous, spiky as if they had a sharp knife edge and I feared I would crash into them and they’d slash me to pieces but I needn’t have worried. I flew past them with speed and out to the other side into the bright sunlight and bustling city.

The phone landed me safely on a busy square. I had no idea where I was so I looked down on the phone and saw my camera roll was on a photo of a slim young handsome man with light hair wearing a dark blue suit and white open neck shirt turned away from the camera and looking behind him.

It was as if the camera caught him mid pose, his body turned around saying goodbye to someone while at the same time walking away from them.

I thought to myself, “imagine if I run into this handsome man here!”

Sure enough, I look up and he’s standing there in front of me. He’s my height with a crop of blonde hair that flops down that he pulls up up with his hand. He’s wearing the exact blue suit and white shirt. He reminds me of an actor I’ve seen in movies from the late 60s, an Alain Delon (but blonde). He could be American but I have a strong feeling that the way he carries himself with a quiet confidence, he’s European, maybe French.

We look at each other and I’m more shocked than anything staring at him with disbelief of the coincidence. He’s looking at me quizzically. He’s pointing to himself and shaking his head as if he’s asking “Are you looking at me?”

I’m smiling like a lunatic but keep looking at him and then he walks away. He doesn’t know what to think. Maybe he’s embarrassed that this strange woman is looking at him. He’s a few steps ahead of me with his back to me. I’m not sad that he’s leaving because I’m looking forward to the next adventure so I turn to look down on my phone.

However at that exact moment, I find him standing beside me. I look up and see him smiling at me. He takes my hand and steers me to the front entrance of a nearby store.

He turns to me looks and says, “Come with me”.

And that’s the moment I wake up.

Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody hell. I then spend ages trying to get back to sleep to get back to that same dream and find out what’s next. Why do I have such nice dreams that never go to their completion because then I spend the rest of my waking day thinking about it wondering what could have happened!

The irony is not lost on me that the photo that was on my phone was the same instant the photo was taken of him.