I am no scholar of the bible. I know that there is one book that some have called "erotic." But to the modern eye and ear it seems comical -- "Her breasts were like two young roes that are twins." Hubba hubba.
In my dream though, there was another book. Not erotic, but teeming with what might be called romantic poetry. In my dream my beloved sat at my left side. I read the book closely, both in terms of physical proximity and rabbinical seriousness. With my left forefinger, I traced out for my beloved the passages that were most magical. This was not a joyful exercise, but the ritual rather an anchor in a storm of sorts, a necessity for our survival, whether separate or apart.