Dreams

You're walking in my dreams again.  Every time I close my eyes, there you are waiting for me.

The first time, I dreamed that I was a child again, running and playing in some golden woods.  My cousins were there, and in the way of dreams, we were looking for something, some grand pretend adventure we'd devised.  I no longer remember what.  I suppose it doesn't matter.  The light came through the trees in that greenish dappling, and, suddenly you were there, too.  Suddenly, you always had been.  You were one of us, one of the scruffy gang of explorers there among the trees.  You grabbed my hand and we pulled each other along as we ran.  That time, when I woke up, I smiled.  I felt happy.  It was a silly, sunny sort of dream, and it didn't feel wrong for you to be there.

Since then, though, when I drop into the world of dreams, you're always there waiting.  Last night, I dreamed I was simply walking through the house, taking care of some chore.  You came and knocked on the front door.  I stood there astonished as you rocked back on your heels slightly, looking over your shoulder at something that had caught your attention, waiting for me to open it.  It took me a long moment to decide whether I was going to or not, and you turned around and studied me quite seriously.  Both of us were much more serious than the opening of a front door warranted.  Then a group of my best friends appeared, and the situation passed.  I let everyone in.

I wish I knew what you were doing hanging out in my dreams.  I'm almost sure you have a million better places to be.  I'd sleep much better if you weren't doing guest appearances, too.  This is strange.  Hopefully it will stop soon.