Awake in a Midsummer Dream

"It's beautiful," she says, her smile stretching from ear to ear. He brought her to a field full of wildflowers, nestled in the heart of a quiet forest clearing, just as dusk began to settle. The sun dipped low in the sky, painting it in rich streaks of purple, pink, red, and orange. Fireflies flickered gently in the tall grass, as if the stars themselves had descended to witness the moment. She wears a white summer dress with soft yellow flowers printed on the fabric, and her strawberry-blonde hair cascades down her back like ocean waves.

He watches her run through the blossoms, arms outstretched, laughing like a child. It’s the most breathtaking sight he’s ever seen. "It sure is," he murmurs under his breath.

With his heart thudding in his chest, he reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing the tiny velvet box hidden there. The touch of it grounds him. He exhales slowly, steadying himself, and walks toward her.

She notices the beads of sweat on his brow. "Are you feeling alright? You look a little feverish."

He just smiles, pulls her close, and kisses her. They break apart, breathless, eyes sparkling.

“My beautiful, strong Grace,” he begins, voice trembling slightly. “I am unequivocally and irrevocably in love with you.”

He pauses, breathes. “Since the day I met you, you've made me a better man. I’ll be forever grateful that you came into my life. When I picture the future, you’re always there, right by my side. I see a cozy house with a big yard and a white picket fence, and three amazing, beautiful children laughing as they run barefoot through the grass. As he speaks, the field of wildflowers begins to shimmer in the fading light, flowers giving way to emerald grass, a cottage appearing like magic from a midsummer enchantment, complete with a white picket fence and the sound of children's laughter echoing like music through the clearing.”

Her eyes well up with tears. He drops to one knee and pulls out the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring.

“I can’t imagine my life without you. Grace Natalie Newman, will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of—”

“WAH WAH WAH WAH WAH.”

“Derek, are you okay? What are you—”

“WAH WAH WAH WAH.”

And just like that, I wake up. Groaning, I slam my alarm clock off.

It was just a dream. But it felt so real. I could smell the flowers, feel the breeze, taste the freedom. That dream has haunted me six nights in a row. And every time, I wake up right before he proposes.

Maybe I’m just nervous. Derek bought me this stunning, emerald green dress, with a low back, and told me to be ready by 7:00 tonight. We’ve got reservations at The Black Cat—the most exclusive restaurant in town. And I’ve got the whole day off for a full spa treatment: massage, facial, mani-pedi. I feel like royalty. Something in my gut tells me tonight is going to change everything.

I finish by 6:45, applying a dark green lipstick and lining it with black. I pull on my 6-inch, shiny black heels and take one last look in the mirror. "Damn, I look good." I grab my bag and head downstairs to meet Derek.

He, of course, is already waiting for me. He lets out a whistle, he walks towards me and wraps his arms around my waist, placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Mmm. Hello, gorgeous. You look incredible.”

I rest my hands on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. “Hello yourself, handsome. You clean up very nicely.” I give a low whistle.

Hand-in-hand, he walks me to his car and opens the door, always a gentleman, I smile at the thought. I slide into the seat and wait for Derek to get in and start driving. It takes us about 20 minutes to get to the restaurant. Derek hands his keys to the valet, and then comes and opens my door. I stayed in the car because he gets upset when I don't let him open my door, and honestly, I love it.

He leads me inside, and oh my god, The Black Cat is even more breathtaking in person. Gothic and elegant, lit by three massive chandeliers with real candles flickering above. The booths are black with rich red trim, and each table is crowned with a single red rose and glowing candles.

He heads to the hostess, checks us in, and returns to take my hand. We’re led to a candlelit booth, tucked beneath one of those glorious chandeliers.

I glance at the menu and nearly choke. Nothing is under $60. I settle on a gourmet burger with sweet potato fries, a side Caesar salad, and a Manhattan. Derek orders a 12 oz. porterhouse steak, baked potato, and a whiskey sour.

“I’m so glad you brought me here, thank you,” I say, taking his hand.

“Only the best for the woman I plan to spend forever with.”

Our drinks arrive—my Manhattan is perfect. We toast to the night and each other.

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” Derek asks gently.

I hesitate. “Yeah, but I’ve been trying melatonin. It’s helping...a little.” A white lie. I haven’t told him that I keep dreaming about him proposing in a field of wildflowers, only to wake up before he finishes.

Our salads arrive, and we chat about our week, laughing easily. When the entrees come, my burger looks like a masterpiece fit for a queen of the summer woods: an artisan bun glistening as if kissed by golden dew, crowned with fire-grilled pineapple, a bed of arugula as green as enchanted forest leaves, and crumbles of goat cheese draped in a sweet, spellbinding sauce. I add the tomato and avocado slices and take a bite. A delighted moan escapes me, as if Puck himself had blessed my tastebuds with midsummer mischief.

Derek grins. “What do you see when you think about your future?”

I pause, swallowing the bite and sipping my third Manhattan. My eyes widen at the question.

He repeats it, gentler: “When you picture the future… what do you see?”

I gaze into his emerald eyes, momentarily lost. “I see three beautiful children running around a big yard, a big fluffy dog chasing after them. I see you beside me, always. You’re my home, my rock, and my champion. I love you, Derek.”

His cheeks flush, and he beams. He kisses my hands, one after the other.

Just then, the waiter returns with two champagne flutes and a very expensive-looking bottle. He opens it with flair, pours both of us a glass, and steps away.

Derek lifts his glass to me. We toast again—to our future. I take a sip, but something taps my lip.

Inside my glass… a diamond ring.

The same one from my dream.

I look up. Derek is on one knee.

“Grace Natalie Newman, you are the most incredible, strong, intelligent, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Being with you these past four years has been the greatest joy of my life.”

He gently urges me to finish the champagne so he can retrieve the ring.

“I asked what you saw in your future. I see the same thing—you. Grace, will you marry me?”

I nod, tears falling, and offer my left hand. He slips the ring on as the restaurant erupts into applause. He stands, pulls me into a hug, and spins me, then I pull him in and kiss him deeply, fingers tangled in his hair.

Derek is the love of my life. We’ve waited, respected boundaries—especially mine. I’ve always believed in saving myself for marriage, and he’s never pushed, never pressured. That’s how I know he’s the one.

The waiter brings complimentary drinks and a dessert brownie pizza with a sparkler and “Congratulations!!!” written in chocolate.

Outside, under the stars, Derek hands the valet his ticket. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did. I am drunk in love with you, and extremely full, I can't believe you finished your whole meal and still ate most of the brownie.”

He grins. “I was hungry." He chuckles, "Well, I’ve got one more surprise.”

We drive into a quiet residential neighborhood and stop in front of a perfect house. Big yard. White picket fence. Cobblestone path to the door. A sold sign on the lawn.

He wraps his arms around me from behind. “Welcome home, baby.”

I spin around. “Wait—this is ours?”

He nods. “Everything finalized Monday. I bought the ring last year and started saving so we’d have a place to build our life.”

I can’t speak. I just kissed him.

He hands me a key. I run to the door, pause, and glance back. Derek leans against the car, smiling like an idiot, but hey, he's my idiot.

I step through the threshold, knowing this time… it’s not just a dream—it’s the dream I once awoke from too soon, now made real by a little midsummer magic.