Yesterday I had a dream about you and this time you looked like yourself,

But it was really midmorning and I had just made a bowl of over sweetened

cream of wheat and the apartment was slightly glowing with the sun; 8am bullshit.

I pulled a cover over my shoulders and sank into the softest pillows, building

a small mountain to rest my morning thoughts of you that have already become

expected, though necessary.

I take time out of my day to think of you now.

I sat inside that moment, but not really, a nineteen year old with dyed hair and

roots that need to be touched up, in galaxy shorts and an overlarge tshirt

laying in bed with her messy hair and breath still smelling like cinnamon-

Her kool aid on one side and absolem on the other.

She pushes the hair away from her face and glances out the window, you

said you'd be in Virginia and she wonders if you'll be anywhere near her, if

she will feel you while you're here-what will you be thinking when you descend

into this state and will there be a lovely, impulsive moment that you decide

to come see her.

She guesses not and puts her head back down for her morning nap, tucking the blanket

around her toes, under her chin, and over her shoulders again. She likes that warm feeling

and remembers how every time someone holds her now, she steals that moment and gives

it to thoughts of you, imagining and reimagining what it would be like to be in your arms

instead-I guess that is wrong of her-but it's the best part of her day.

She grabs the koala bear in her hands and feels silly for the comfort it brings her just through

touching it and holding it against Absolem, too.

Maybe if she squeezes it hard enough you'll appear-haha, she smiles, grimaces and rolls over

closing her eyes again-knowing it won't happen.

Sleep evades, as always, and she allows it to only because these drowsy thoughts

have become addictive, a relaxant, clearing her mind with content

for a brief time, allowing herself this momentary surrender.

She wonders if anyone knows the feeling she is describing and doubts it,

It is when you are inside the thought of someone else, fully immersed

in an image of trust, friendship, love and beauty; everything is unharmed

everything is less damaged, she is not hurt, she is not afraid; she is happy-

it is a fantasy. Her own-

simple.

perfect.

She does not turn away. She does not run. She is open. She smiles and

climbing into those open arms is easy. He is wearing white and a small grin,

his voice warm and they are meeting for the first time over and over, a

surprise, a planned event, whatever, she is always shaking a bit but it's normal,

nothing embarassng, she is able to speak, to express and love freely

He seems happy, comfortable, and she hears his laugh that makes him gasp

a little, his words in her ear and her quiet smile-she is happy too.

And then the fantasy ends as fantasies do...

lacking presence, truth or realism, creating a sort of wistful melancholy

from her to him.

So she falls back asleep,

waiting for her next dose.

I dreamt of you after that and it must sound odd to have someone dream of you so often

I wonder what that feels like, but I like to tell you as I have not been able to tell someone before.

I don't remember the dream, but when I woke up, I felt more rested than I had for a long time...

so thank you.