I dreamed of you last night; two dreams, which were not daunted by the miles which separate us in reality. You gave me that quizzical look when we first met, the one that I have grown to love and miss. It didn’t matter to you that this girl who was once a romantic is now swayed by the fallacies of life, although she wishes to escape reasoning and dissolve into emotions. She has unwillingly held herself at the edge of the cliff, but can’t let go.
You know I doubt my love often, and find my conscience conceited for wanting to take the easy way out. Did it have to be this difficult? That I am always eager to misconstrue, find reasons why we wouldn’t be compatible. But then we say the most incorrigibly idiotic things to each other and the pain ceases by a notch.
Last night, I was in bed, finding it difficult to breathe with a chest full of phlegm. Reminded of the time when my feet had gone too cold at the movies, and you sneaked your hand below the seat to keep rubbing them so that they were warm.
It’s overwhelming to try and keep up when we meet after ages, make memories which should suffice for the times we spend apart. But then I dream of you. Of us. Not trying to make things work in the little time we have together, but being in the moment. Breaking into a laugh in the middle of a serious conversation, speaking endlessly of our indisputable love for our dogs and cats and how coffee just makes the world a little better.
With each day that passes us by, you inspire me to be a little more chaotic and sentimental. To trust that love will guide us, and even on darkest of nights, there will always be a glimmer of hope. And dreams which will see us through.