Your beauty is

as complex as Bach
as magnificent as Beethoven
as glorious as Handel
as enchanting as Tchaikovsky
as mysterious as Biber
as sublime as Schubert

The first dream I ever had of you was that you came to me in tears, having just had a fight with your parents, and I held you and comforted you. I had this dream twice within a few days. The second time, when I comforted you, you kissed me.

Another one, which stands out very clearly in my memory:

You and I were sitting together on one of those bench swings in a beautiful outdoor setting, like a park or garden. And Christ brought us a wonderful meal that he had prepared for us, and wine. Deep, rich, red wine in a sparkling silver goblet. He served us, like at Eucharist, and we both drank from it.

In Scripture, food represents blessings and fellowship, and wine represents joy and covenant.

This was one of those very powerful dreams that have that sense that it's something significant and special. The light is brighter, the colors more vibrant, and there's the sense of reality that is missing in ordinary dreams. And His presence: it's unmistakable.

There's another dream that I had of you, some time ago. For some reason it's been on my mind.

In it, I was in your room. Not your actual room, but in a place where we were all living communally, like a hostel or something. I think the place represented our communal life, and your room your life. You had a note or a letter that you wanted to give me, but you were afraid. So I offered you something in exchange: a poem I had written for you, and you agreed to trade notes with me at the same time. When I had yours, I saw that it was old and wrinkled, as if you'd been carrying it for a very long time in a pocket or concealed against your body. I opened it, and the writing was a bit faded, again from age, but in big, bold letters in beautiful handwriting, it said only three words: 'I love you.'

Vieni, vieni in questo seno