I spent Sunday wondering whether or not to tell Valery about the dream I had. Every time I recalled it, a mixture of pleasure and fear washed over me.
The dream had been so vivid that I could almost feel the warmth of the sun and the dry leaves brushing against my skin in the forest. Even the sticky scent of clean, sweet air seemed to linger in my palate.
However, I hesitated, fearing that Valery would interpret it as a sign of my "post-traumatic stress," especially the part about encountering what undoubtedly seemed like a witch. If I shared the details of the young couple making love, she might comment on my body's need for a partner and the urgency for me to experience s*x in my life.
I leaned towards believing it wasn't worth telling her anything. I also debated whether the visit f
