Every morning for the past two weeks, right before I wake up, you come into my dreams and give me a hug.
(Either this, or I dreamt it fourteen times tonight. Dreams are misleading, you know.)
It is usually under some rediculous premise, of course; you’re running off to go sleep in a closet with my step-brother, your home planet has been destroyed and you are in need of consolation, or sometimes the sy is just pink and everything else is business as usual.
But these hugs, these are the highlight of my night.
Because these are the bear hugs. These are the getting-on-an-airplane, let-go-and-I’m-gone type of hugs. The hugs where you hold me for much longer than you I can take, and my skin becomes all hot and starts to burn but you don’t let go and I don’t fight you on it. The hugs were two half-empty people can somehow feel whole.
It’s nice.
But this morning, you didn’t pull me as tight. This morning, you didn’t grab me and hold me and force me to get over all my neuroticisms. It was loose and casual and like every other hug.
(Granted, we were running from a serial killer with a feral sense of smell, so there may have been other things on your mind.)
I don’t know what the fuck it means of course. I’ve never been one for dream interpretation; like the zodiac and tarot, it’s always been mental fireworks for the easily influenced. Sometimes dreams are just dreams, you know? I don’t think there’s much symbolism in it.
I mean, maybe you’re just sopping in to give me a hug. Right before I wake up. Kind of a nice way to start the day, the reassurance that somewhere someone loves you. I doubt you have any motives that go beyond that, maybe only that you get the same.
So the fact that now maybe these are trailing off, well, I’m just fine with that to. I mean, your stay in my head as been good, annd longer than most. Hell, you’re only beat out in length by two others. But now that all literal and physical versions of you are gone, perhaps it’s best that your imaginary being start to fade as well.
Anyway, good morning.
