Walk with me.

I don't know if my senses are fooling me,  if my mind has taken the best of me but i feel it. I am never ever sure if i dreamed it,  if i have seen it or if i imagined it.  I guess no matter how much i think i know my reality and the difference it has with dreams and illusion it still escapes me. There are still hazy memories or it could be a dream or just a vision or maybe my brain made it up and for some unknown reason i can't distinguish what is real.  It played over and over in my mind that i feel it physically happend, or––i might have only effectively convinced myself it did? but it is blurry and dreamlike so maybe i just imagine it?
It is hasty and blurry at edges of vision, but i am aware i'm in a street,  gray dry cement stretching far ahead with trees and grass all in lively green swaying in the direction of the wind.  It is not hot or cold,  not humid nor scorched but it is cloudy with rays of sun escaping from edges of clouds and striking through holes and sides of the leaves and branches of trees creating this sharp rays of sunlight while soft wind blows in my face and hair. I am walking,  i have no direction in my mind,  i am taking steps by steps, one foot after another. As i have always done in my life, i walk alone, always alone. I always choose solitude in every journey,  i seek no company for times such as this.  I have my certainty and peace walking alone straight ahead as i always have and i believe always will. It feels very familiar,  the walk,  the air,  the solitude,  the peace, it is comfortable. I see people passing by me but never taking the time to glance at me,  why would they? i do not know them they do not know me,  makes perfect sense.  I am somewhere busy with crowds and cars all doing their business.  I am turning my head sideways to see different angles of everywhere and i felt a pull in my hand like another set of fingers touched mine and i halt.  The hand holds mine in a way as if it has been holding it with too much familiarity.  It was warm and rough with callouses, i know i should be nervous for all the right reasons but i feel nothing if not curious. I turned my head to the direction i anticipated the owner of the hand will stand and he was there,  smiling.  I have never seen his face before, he is fair cream color, has dark ruffled hair blown by the wind, thick set of strong eyebrows,  dark eyes squinting from rays of sunlight.  I stared at him hard, my gaze traveled from his face to his chest,  to his abdomen,  to his groin,  to his knees to feet back up to his extended arm and rested my eyes to his fingers holding mine.  I know i should have pulled back but i didn't. I should speak to ask but i didn't. I should think reasonably but for some incompetent reason,  i didn't.  Not because i can't but more because i don't want to. His hands felt warm not only in my hands but travels in my arms and in other parts of my body,  i feel warm all over. I was breathing through my mouth and staring,  just staring, dumbfounded i suppose is what i look like. I was frozen but it didn't feel wrong like it was suppose to be. I looked at his face again,  he was still smiling,  was he mine?  I feel his hands tighten around mine and speak.
"can i walk with you? "
Why will he want to walk with me?  I think. 
I can't let him.  I always have walked,  and will walk alone.  I choose to.
I don't want him with me. Do i?
I know people,  they never intend the meaning of the words they speak.  How different is he?
They never understand the clarity behind solitude and he won't.
I didn't speak and keep silent.
He is no longer smiling but he is still holding my hand,  tighter this time. He just stared at me the same way i stared at him.
I wonder what he thinks.  How this is not odd to him and is incredibly odd to me.
I stare in his eyes to see if i can peek in his soul,  i can't.
So we stand there,  staring.
And i covet with every ounce of my strenght,  every strand of my soul that he was mine and that he can walk with me.

I hope it is real,  a memory. My hope was almost stronger than the persistent logic that it was a hasty dream. But i am holding on to that dot of adamant possibility it was a memory trapped in my dream,  if such things happen.