Daytime dream

I took a nap this afternoon, and dreamed:

I wanted to look at his hands. I am fascinated with peoples' hands, and especially his, long and pale and delicate like dancers. But when I reached out to examine them, instead he grasped my hand and turned it over. My nails were scratched and full of dirt, as if I had been injured. He started to gently clean them, brushing the dirt away and telling me that I should really go and wash the injuries so that they wouldn't become infected. His voice was sad and kind, but I could not look at his face, as if he were behind me. I agreed that I should go and clean the wounds, but instead of releasing me, he just held my hands, and I was filled with the sense that I was loved and cared for.