Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Freedom .


It gives me comfort. It’s not a dream and it’s not physical, but it is real in a way I cannot explain to those who are not spiritual. He is not there, yet I feel his presence, and I feel like the Mother Goddess soothing Her consort.

Maybe it’s just the mother in me, but it gives me comfort to give comfort to others, particularly to him, just comfort and nothing more although something more would not be an unpleasant thing.

For the past two nights, I’ve had a sense of someone close to me, someone close at hand, someone thinking of me, someone close to me on a plane that is not physical.

He comes to me when I meditate, a masculine energy but more seeking nurture than to protect, though the willingness to protect is there if need be. But for now it is not to protect but to be enveloped and simply loved, no expectations, no requirements.

Flying By Night novel

He crawls to me as I lie with my face and palms to the sky, eyes closed but all my senses alive. He slides his body between my legs but not in a sexual way. His weight is in his legs, his chest on my hips, his cheek against my chest, his eyes closed as if he has found a welcome haven here. His hands slide against my bare back, up to my shoulders, and curl around, holding on as if he might forget and let go.

And here, he can let go. In this refuge, he can simply be and not have to think and not have to worry and not have to defend or pretend or expect. He can breathe.

And me, I simply wrap my arms around his shoulders and sooth his hair and kiss his head and whisper into his hair as I brush my lips against his forehead and tell him all is as it should be.


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