Five Ten Twenty-One
It was only a dream.
A projection of some twisted reality, but not an actuality.
It was the last dream of the night. As the morning arrived. For some reason God seems to send those juicy ones just before the day begins. One could call it a sign; hiding in some meaningful way. I call it painful.
You’re doing well. You always are in the dreams. So are your friends.
I can hear the scorn in their voice from that very first “hello,” but they ease up after a few minutes. They can tell I mean no harm. I understand their trepidation of course.
I want the dream to keep going, but it is, after all, the last dream of the night. It’s finiteness adds to its weight I suppose. It makes it special.
You’re doing well. You always are in the dreams. You seem happy. I secretly hope it’s because I am there, in reality it is likely because you are stronger than me. It seems funny to say “in reality” when talking about a dream, but as far as dreams go the ones with you are far from fiction.
There are no monsters, no plots, no twists…just company and conversation. I guess that is what the dream is trying to message to me. The things I miss most are the simplicities. It was a nice walk. Such a nice walk. Nothing out of our ordinary though — status quo — and there is nothing wrong with that.
You’re doing well. You always are in the dreams. It ends in unspectacular fashion. Like a mirage being blown away by the wind. I open my eyes just as slowly hoping to fall back into it, but the damage is done. I am awake, still straddling dreams and reality, physically present and mentally paused in that time and space.
The sun will come up but it’s going to be rainy today. It’ll give me time to reflect — something I already have plenty of. It’s laughable. So here I sit. I can’t let things dwell, but I can try to twist them. I can make this reality — a lucid dream…
I control it as best I can. I take the pain, the simplicities that I miss, the scorn and I twist it. I make it happiness and joy and learning and growth.
You’re doing well. We usually are in reality. Maybe that’s the painful part. It proves that right and wrong are big grey areas when it comes to us. Things can somehow be both sides of the coin. We’re doing well. We shouldn’t be; the scripted version would have us walk aimless through the city until we eventually bumped shoulders on the subway. We’d be cute and personable then tell our friends and they’d advise us on what to do.
But this is just a dream leaking into reality. This isn’t a script. If it was then it could have been much easier, but I cannot write your story nor you mine and that’s why it hurts. Co-authoring a story is work and I didn’t have it in me.
You’re doing well. I keep telling myself because it is reality even though I have no proof. You are you…and stronger than any dream version. It makes me happy and sad; another grey area.
I wish you were doing well with me. And sadly…that is the actual dream. It always was.