He rested on his rocking chair on to the front porch.
Upper eyelashes gently hugging the lower ones. On his chest lied his book and in his dream – her!
Maybe it was not a dream specifically and his subconscious was playing her consciously.
He thought – What would be the zenith of the pleasure of a human mind which can embrace the reality of its imaginations?
Unanswered, he opens up his eyes to reality and takes some sips of water.
Maybe the question was hard enough to find an answer for. He felt consumed. Water has infused necessary energy into him. Maybe the zenith lies nowhere; this is what he did whisper to himself. Maybe the pleasure of imagination stays subconscious forever.
He opens up his eyes to the never ending field right infront of his porch. All empty as far as eyes could witness. French grass with some wild purple flowers here and there. He knew very well this field ended nowhere and still his eyes could see an end to it into the horizon.
He had his answers now. His beliefs were restricted to what he could easily visualize. Reality of not having her by his side and imagination of her nonfading gestures to him never really intersected his pleasures of mind. He had her and the zenith was the realisation of having her all the time.