Tonight, I will dream that you and I sit at an impossible diner.
The window beside our table will look out on the vastness of space. The sars seem to be moving around us, or maybe the dining room revolves? Either way, it is glorious and majestic and I won't give it a second glance.
I'll be too busy looking at you.
Tonight, you are going to explain it all.
Everything I needed to know, but never knew to ask.
Sometimes sing.
Sometimes it'll even sound good.
You'll smack me for that tease.
You'll look.
You'll laugh.
I'll watch and wonder.
You'll hint at a future that may never happen; I'll ask about a past we never saw.
You'll sigh. I'll melt
I'll try to say something slick, but the dog headed space diner server will be wanting our order.
I'll struggle because I won't have looked at the menu and reading anything is impossible in dreams and is this a dream and yes brown toast will be fine - more candy flavored coffee when you get the chance.
Once left alone you'll remind me of the view.
I'll say "you mean you?"
Another gentle smack, but you'll smile despite yourself, and direct my gaze to an ever expanding universe.
It will be big and small, and everyone I've thought on lately, will be on the round surfaces of passing planets. They'll either wave in recognition, or ignore me.
Which does what will depend on what each person represents to my subconscious.I'll feel a sudden panic and ask you when we have to go back.
You'll say we're already there, and so I shouldn't worry.
You'll take my hand and trace a letter on this inside of my wrist.
You'll say it's for luck.
That when I wake, I'll remember it for an instant before forgetting.
And that it's okay to forge, because if we didn't forget, we couldn't remember.
I don't need remember.
I don't need to worry.
I just need to wake up.
What a shame: I really could've used another cup of candy flavored coffee ...
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