I had a dream about you last night. We were both at a beach town filled with tourists. Something like I’d imagine Coney Island to be like. But it was tropical in some ways. There were many people there, a lot of them in groups. A lot of young people and teenagers. I was with my best friend, and you were with your best friend. I accidentally sent you a message, then tried to undo it because I was embarrassed. Then in an act of bravery, I decided to say “Fuck it,” ultimately letting you know that I was interested in you. You responded in the best way that you could, and I spent the rest of my time on the island walking around, trying to find you so you could fall in love with me. I would see you from afar for brief moments. But I never found you. I’m not sure if you were trying to find me. But, we never found each other. Then I woke up.
Dreams are odd. Sometimes they are so vivid and real, like last night’s. Then sometimes we strain our brains so hard trying to remember. Other times we are going on, living in reality and suddenly it’s familiar, like we were already in that moment in time, and you feel, “Oh, I think I’ve dreamed that before.” And they sometimes can feel like they last for days or weeks, but really they’re just brief moments you have formed, lasting within the bounds of touching your pillow to your head, until something inside or outside your sleep stops it. To think, I dreamt this scene, and those feelings for you, and felt that happiness and mischievousness, all in the same night I also dreamt of floating in the sea with my baby niece, becoming best friends with my sister, and weeping for my father. They were all just brief moments within my mind, and yet when I remember them now, in reality, they mean so much to me. So much that, I sometimes wake up crying. Like last night. I woke up sobbing because my mind didn’t know where the dream ended and reality began. I often find that a problem.