One night, not long ago, I dreamed of Alan Rickman.
He sent me a love letter.
As I read the letter, it felt as if Alan Rickman were standing behind me, bringing those words to life in that hazelnut praline voice of his.
But then again.
I may have made that bit up for dramatic effect.
The problem was that I was in a relationship with someone else at the time, and it was going well. I didn’t want to jeopardise what I had.
I spoke to a friend, and she cried
“You’re a fool! Don’t you know how long Alan Rickman has ardently admired and loved you?”
Indeed, she was right. I had always known of his affections.
I had felt them too.
But we had never spoken of it.
I did not reply to Alan Rickman’s letter. I ignored it.
If only I had spoken out. If only I had told him.
Each night, I wait in hope that Alan Rickman will write to me again…
I will keep you updated.