When I said that these people haunted my dreams, I was being completely serious, not dreadfully romantic. When I said that nobody was coming back for me, I was being realistic, not dramatic. It’s been years. I’m scarred, but I’m moving on. I’m not waiting at the phone for someone to ring.
So when I napped and I had dreams of people discussing their nostalgia of the nightlife city I once ruled, I was not surprised. And when I got a response in my dream, I didn’t think it would lead anywhere.
The message was rude, blunt. It cut me down. It clearly stated that this person used to be me, the only other me there was, the only good me. That I, as I executed myself, was try-hard, unnecessarily wordy, not up to par. I was not the good me.
They didn’t know I was me, and I knew that I wasn’t me when they were me--obviously. We weren’t in the midnight city at the same time.
Regardless, the dreadfully romantic side of me clicked in, and I had to check, I had to...
...Because I realized that the only other me there was, was you. And I have been waiting for you, haunted by you, for years. I had no way of contacting you. I had no idea where to reach you.
So I checked.
And you had reached out.
And I wasn’t dreaming anymore.
