Wednesday, July 25, 2012

What I dream of.

I do not dream about my wife. I have never, in the past, dreamed about whoever it was I were dating, or married to. I do not dream about my children. I do not dream about my family members. I do not dream about my co-workers, nor my fellow artists I see on a regular basis. If you are present, I do not dream of you.

It is not because I do not care about you. It is because you fill my conscious mind. I do not need to worry about you. You are right here (points at own forehead.)

I dream about lovers I never had, and didn't know I wanted. I dream about those important to me, but so far away they are out of reach. Maybe in reality, in space. Maybe in time. I dream about the famous.

I dream about the dead, the unexpected dead. Not grandparents, not historic figures. Those who should be here, but are not. I dream of Peter. He always surprises me. And I dream of those who are dead to me, because they went away. And I don't know which is worse.

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