Another dream has come and gone.
This one, both like and unlike the others,
featured you.
You weren’t doing anything particular,
at least not at the start.
It was our first interaction in a long time,
but it felt so natural.
There was some greater plot at work,
this dream not wholly about us.
There was murder, destruction,
and a job needing to be done, but
I only remember us.
I remember you.
I sat on the couch,
or, moreover, laid
with my head on the cushion
and both legs flung over the back.
It was like old times,
sort of.
I forgot what my mission was
and where I needed to go.
I forgot that I was strong,
that I was powerful.
I sank into the comfort
of us,
but it wasn’t comfort,
exactly.
It was an unknowing
that I embraced.
Then, you interrupted
the stagnant air of
our quiet moment.
You reached out to touch my hair.
Gently, you pulled locks
toward you, and
I stayed still,
unsure of what this meant.
Outside, a war
carried on without our notice.
I looked at you,
wanting to say something.
Only, your eyes were so sad;
you looked lost.
I’d only ever seen that face
in the mirror.
I wanted to comfort you,
to say,
“Are you okay?
What happened to us?”
Yet, I awoke
with the questions
still on my lips.
So It Goes 