"There's more too the body then we know."

She's kneeling over me, drawing her hands across my limbs, my torso.

"The mind just isn't big enough to hold all that we know. all that we
feel.  The body acts as a chemical library.  People who do Shiatsu Massage
know this, and use it."

I have no clothes on but here I am not naked.

"I want to reawaken that sense in you.  I think an import part of the soul
rests here--" she rests her hand on where my hipbone juts out, between my
thigh and my belly "--right at the focus of the body."

It feels as if her hand, held closed right above me, is dropping fine,
warm sand over me.  She remains there, then moves her mouth over the skin. 
It is as if her warm breath and mouth are melting that sand, melting it
and molding it as a cast of my hip. 

My mind stretches back, I am receiving impressions that are half there and
half not there-- it is as if the half-life of a memory of a dream has been
extended tenfold, and I need never mourn my deam's passing again.

She stretches out over me, her body stretched over me, her hip pressed
again mine, and I can feel her dream memory too.