Tour: Stamford, Lincs (2)
Fiction: Polka Dot
Beware the truth that is lucid dreaming.
I saw us on the quad, sometime in June, four years from now. There was no marquee, but instead chairs placed in a careful semi-circle in front of us. You were in red at first: strappy, empire line. But I think that changed to polka dot at some point. You said the vows that we had written with firmness and clarity. I tried to think of whether I'd changed your mind, to do something you said you'd never do. Persuaded you. But your smile and the unwavering brightness in your eyes said that you'd arrived at this decision yourself; that love had persuaded you.
We had a first dance of course, but the lucidity didn't stretch to to confirming whether it was 'Nothing Else Matters' or 'Distant Sun'. Maybe it was 'Into My Arms' instead.