The dream of you

There is you and then there is the dream of you. Which one can I reach at any given moment? Just the dream I guess, and it lives here, day and night. Once in a while I feed it subconsciously, I take it for a walk; I open a window to it for fresh air.

In the dream you are so vivid, so real that it rushes blood and adrenaline to my head, I get so happy, excited and very high. One night I saw you in my dream. In the dream you walked into my bedroom, I was facing the wall not the door. You lifted the edge of the comforter and crawled under it. Your skin touched my skin. It woke me up, it gave me goose bumps and scared me, I didn’t want to turn back for fear of not finding you there. I paused for few seconds, I called your name out loud and when I heard my own voice, I came back to reality, the reality of your absence. I couldn’t get the realness of our skin touching out of my mind for few days. How could it be only a dream? It couldn’t be, it shouldn’t be; and had I refused to wake up it wouldn’t be. It was so real, I felt it with all my skin cells. Don’t the skin cells send a signal to the brain when skin touchs something? I’m sure my brain received the signal. I needed a cigarette. The intensity of that moment had to be replaced with some artificiality to calm me down.

How grateful I am to the inventor of life who provided the dream phenomenon, otherwise the certainty of not being able to see you again would have been a good reason not to go on. How can one go on knowing there is someone out there that might make them happy, and yet is going to be absent forever?