A man with a white dog and bright blue eyes

I wake up in the middle of the night. It seemed as if I was abruptly interrupted from my dream by a loud noise. My heart is pounding and my head feels warm and sweaty. I find myself breathing fast and loud. I decide to hold my breath for a moment and lie still. I try to focus on the environment and listen. Had I heard anything? What was that loud noise that woke me? Was there any sound at all or had I imagined it? My breathing calms down. Apart from my breathing, I hear no other sounds in the room. I shift my focus to sounds coming from outside. I can hear the wind blowing softly and when I listen carefully I can hear the whine of a few foxes. I sit up in bed and take a good look around. Slowly my eyes get used to the light, or the lack of it. I can't see much, but enough to determine that the bedroom looks pretty much normal. Nothing or no one to be seen. Maybe I dreamed it. I remember I had a very pleasant dream. I felt like I won the lottery, but just woke up and realised I lost everything again. Had I really heard a loud bang or not? My dog isn’t barking, so it must be nothing. Maybe it was the dream after all.

I relax a little and I try to remember my dream again. It's a shame that those memories can just fade away. It is precisely this moment that I can still remember fragments that I must use to write down my dreams. Several years ago I started keeping a dream diary after I dreamt the same dream for several nights in a row. This intrigued me enormously and I wanted to document it. I started my dream journal after the second or third time I woke up at night from a dream that I really wanted to dive back into, but I couldn’t. I had this idea that I could return to a dream as long as I concentrated hard enough and tried to remember the dream. It didn't help and when reality slowly took over again I even started to doubt whether I had even dreamed at all. I walked over to my desk and found a little black book in one of the drawers. I had bought a stack once. Sometimes I used them to take notes for my work or sketch designs. By the time I got back to the bedroom with a pen in my hand and the light on, I had forgotten the dream. I wrote down some words to describe the house I dreamt about, but I couldn’t remember any details. Since then I always keep a little black book within reach in the bedroom. I had neatly written down the next dream I had, and most other dreams after that. A fair number of dreams followed and after a while I dreamed about the house again. I dreamed up a whole house, including layout, secret passageways and restricted areas. I even dreamed about the difficult relationship I had with the landlord and the problems that came with it. That house and that landlord did not exist. However, they were carefully described in my dream diary.

I realise I am groping around for a while now to find my dream diary, but I don't seem to have left it on my bedside table. I came home earlier tonight from a weekend with my parents and I realise that I had brought my dream diary with me. It must still be in a bag. I decide to get it, but I also realise that I will undoubtedly forget the dream. I have to come up with some kind of mantra and play it in my mind so that I can keep remembering this dream. "A man with a white dog and bright blue eyes", "a man with a white dog and bright blue eyes", "a man with a white dog and bright blue eyes". I get up and turn on the light in the hallway. "A man with a white dog and bright blue eyes." I walk down the hall to the coat rack where my bag is on the floor. "A man with a white dog and bright blue eyes." I feel in my bag. The bag is completely empty. No little black book. I can hear the tapping of my dog's nails on the laminate floor. "Hey Luke," I say. He slowly approaches me and yawns. In my mind, I apologise for the noise I had made, which undoubtedly awakened him. He sniffs my leg for a moment, but then walks on to the hallway. I know he will go straight to the bedroom to snuggle up in my bed. "No!" I shout to him and he immediately stops. His ears drop and he looks at me with a guilty look. With a tail between his legs he turns around slowly and walks back to his bench. "Good boy," I say. I look at the bag again. No, completely empty. I can just walk to the study and look for a new book. I'm just annoyed that I can't find my dream diary and I don’t want to forget about this dream again. "A man with a white dog and bright blue eyes."

I think back to how I got home. I had the bag on my back, I had opened the door, Luke greeted me and sniffed my leg when I entered, I slung the bag on the floor and took Luke's belt, put it on him and I walked out again. I left the door open. I'm not really afraid of burglars, especially in the middle of the night.

I remember I ran into Burt on my walk. Burt was walking Don. Burt is actually always out walking Don and I always run into him on my rounds. I suddenly remember the man Burt was with. I hadn’t noticed the man immediately, because he was dressed all in black. It was because of his white dog that I noticed him. When I got closer, the man looked at me. He had bright blue eyes. As I replay these events in my head, I realise that it is this man that I have dreamed about. In the dream I had gone home with this man. In reality, however, I had gone back home. After both gentlemen noticed me, we shared some small talk. Burt looked at me with a smile and introduced me. I immediately forgot the man’s name. I could only look into his clear blue eyes and drown in them. Something about this man made him incredibly attractive. He would be about Burt's age, I imagined. I noticed his scent. It was a mix of after shave, an eau de toilette with a musk scent and I noticed something smoky. Not from cigarettes, but rather a kind of smoky whisky. A Laphroaig. I love that delicious smoky taste of a Laphroaig whisky. This man reminded me of a Laphroaig and I began to wonder if he would taste like that too. I scanned the man with my eyes carefully. He had a broad shoulders, but I couldn't see his exact build because of his suit and thick coat. He did look strong though and I wanted him to hold me tight. The suit he wore was black with a light chalk stripe. I have a taste for suits myself, so I immediately notice if someone is wearing a quality suit. Especially if I would like to have it myself. Or in this case, would like to tear it off this man. I looked at my hand and I was still shaking the man's hand. He has soft but strong hands. He had a wide golden ring on one of his fingers. I suddenly became very aware of how crazy it is that I shook this man's hand for such a long time without saying anything. ‘Nice to meet you’ I said. The man nodded. "Likewise," he said. I wanted to chat with this man some more, or send Burt home and go home with this man, but I couldn’t. I looked around and realised Luke was gone. "Let's continue this another time." Said the man. I nodded and said goodbye to both gentlemen. I finished my round with Luke and walked back in through the front door, which was still ajar. Then I fed Luke.

I take another look at my bag. No little black book. Thinking about the man I met during my walk brings back memories of my dream. I decide to turn off the lights and go back to bed. If I can’t write it down, then I can at least try to return to the dream again. I close my eyes. The attractive man in his expensive suit had invited me to come with him. Burt was nowhere to be seen in the dream. The man in my dream was a mix of the man I met earlier that night and Ricky Martin. I remember feeling like an escort. I was this man's young boy toy and I was totally fine with it. The man had taken me to his house. The man's house reminded me of Villa Borghese. It also reminded me of the house I had dreamed about so many times. We sat on a love seat in front of a huge fireplace. A fire lit the room. There was only the firelight and a single candle on a small coffee table in front of us. There were two whisky glasses on the table. The man had flirted with me and I had allowed it all. I had absorbed his scent and pressed my face into his neck. While I still try to remember the dream and think about the attractive stranger I feel that I’m getting hard. I try to think about the details of what the man looked like and how we made love, but I couldn't remember much. I do remember how much I enjoyed it, but I can’t conjure the visuals. We had been making love all night and I had fallen asleep on the man's chest. The next morning the man had disappeared. I woke up in my own bed. On the bedside table was a golden ring and a note. "I enjoyed last night. Keep this ring with you so I have a reason to come back and pick it up. So as not to tempt you to sell it, I have a little something for you. Don't spend it all at once. X P.” I turn the note over and see that it is in fact a check of 20,000 pounds. I remember I dreamed about the different ways to spend that money. It involved a car, a trip to a sunny island and I think it even involved Ricky Martin himself. I didn't just feel like an escort. It appeared I was really one. One with a very rich and attractive sugar daddy. Unfortunately it was all a dream, but then I realise the man is real. I wonder if he is on Grindr. I grope in the dark and feel my phone. Then I hear a clinging sound. Something fell off the bedside table. I turn my phone on and shine with the light from the screen around me. Whatever fell onto the floor has rolled under the bedside table. I shine the light under the bedside table and I can now very clearly see a golden ring. Before I take it, I look at the bedside table and see a note there. No, not a note. It's a check. Then I notice the little black book, right underneath the check. This can’t be real, can it?