I had a dream about you.
Again.
It was lame – in that kind of way my dreams tend to be:
nonsensical situations, floating trees, blueberry skies...you get the picture.
In my dream, you turned off all the lights in room and sit right next to me,
side
by
side.
We just...were there, you know?
Simply like that.
There was no ceiling above us, only
infinite night sky, so we
were watching the shooting, burning stars falling and shining brightly
so
close
we could touch them, if we wanted to.
But you were sitting right there, your warmth was radiating right through my skin, your breath was making me shiver and our knuckles were
so
close
we could touch
and entwine fingers,
if we wanted to.
It was like fever, you know? Like thirst, burning you from the inside. And all it would take
was one little
touch.
Don’t look at me like that, come on, I said it was just a dream, didn’t I?
No big deal.
It was lame, don’t you think? We two? Together, watching stars?
Ridiculous. Yeah, I know, so pathetic!
Oh, did you hear that new song? What do you think? Yeah, yeah I could use one more beer, thanks.
/But, my best friend,
here is the thing that
I’ll never tell you:
When I woke up, I thought that the falling, burning stars were symbolising
our burned opportunities
to become more./
