You ever meet people in your dreams. Not familiar faces, not people you know. Strangers. Complete and utter strangers. Beautiful, comfortable and mysterious they play their roles without an ounce of awkward. They just fit. Who the hell are those people? Souls I might meet in the future? Friends I might laugh with in the years to come. A girl I might love. If so where are they now? Are they dreaming of me? We dance in our destinies waiting for an introduction. I shook your hand when I slept. I felt your life in my head. I knew you were there.
I met a girl in my dreams once. She had dark hair that rolled like hills from a car window. Wavy and deep, brown eyes, red lips to match her dress. She was on fire. The foreground was a dance floor made of oak the distance was a heavy shade of green. We danced for a song, maybe more. Time is tough to read when you’re asleep. I didn’t know her long, but my sheets were twisted and I woke up on the other side of my bed. A ghost. A spirit that flat out flowed. I honestly believe that girl is out there. I believe she has this same memory.
Its almost like you flip your switch and plug into a dream roulette. A network of relentless minds in restful bodies. We slumber hard as luck throws us together in a mash of confusion and fickle memories. We enjoy the company, smile in our ignorance and float. Dark nights glow with age and bloom into dawn and we bid our farewells. Will we meet again? Maybe. Do I have any idea who you are? No. Do it want to do it again? Always.
I sleep almost everyday, and I never wake up dead. I must be doin some livin’ somewhere in between consciousness. I wonder what I’m like with my eyes closed.