I had a dream last night, and you were in it. I was talking to you, just like we are talking right now. And I said some things. Not important things. Every day, hey how ya doin type things. I said those things, and then you were gone. I said those things without really saying anything, and then you were gone. You were gone without me even saying a word that mattered. I wasted that chance on small talk. I didn’t take the risk. You are worth the risk; this is worth the chance. My words need to be more careful; thoughtful. When I see you in my dream tonight my first words won’t be hello or hey, hi or even good evening. My first words will be words to describe how you make it hard for me to talk because I stumble over my own tongue in my rush to talk to you. My first words will entail all my joy at seeing you here, now, even if it is only just a dream. My first words will speak volumes large enough to fill a library, loud enough to be heard from across the continents, meaningful enough to move your heart and with enough conviction to make you echo them back. My first words, “I love you…”
One thought on “When I was a kid I hated going to bed; it felt like if I was sleeping I was missing out on life. 20 some years later? I’m fighting my way towards never having to wake up again.”
What was the response? People can kill another, just by responding to a fervent, heartfelt greeting, with a dour “Oh, HEL-lo”.