Day 31

When you awaken from this dream - this is a dream by the way - you will try desperately to remember what I am about to tell you. 

Failing to recall the words will infuriate you.

You'll remember certain details, like me standing here with my angelic wings half unfurled behind me. The moments leading to our standing here before the Ferris wheel-bumper car hybrid. That's a Ferris wheel that you play bumper cars on while it raises you in a circular motion, instead of just sitting stationary.

Really this should have tipped you off to all this being a dream, but it is very endearing of you to look past it just to spend time with me.

Now: these final pivotal words I'm about to say that you'll forget: You will rush about for pad and pen, even though you've placed both on your bedside.

You'll be compelled to try and preserve as much of these final moments as you can. It is not unlike trying to catch a waterfall with just your hands. 

Don't be too saddened.

After all, this is your mind that conjured me. I'm still here, as are my words.

Even if you forget them. Even if you forget me.

I am never lost to you. Not really.

Take some small comfort in that, will you?

...

Now, the thing I must tell you.

It's simple, but important. And if you really think about it, all your problems could be solved by adhering to precisely this statement: