I dreamt about him again. His existence (or lack of it) haunts me even in my dreams. It felt so real, though, and that is what hurts the most. I was with him; I know it. I felt the cold air hit my face and saw the greenery around me; I was there and he was with me. Sometimes I just dream that I am close to him, but can’t see him face to face. I found myself in his state, in his city, only to get his voicemail if I was lucky. Last night’s dream, though, I was with him. When I woke up this morning my heat fell into my stomach when I realized I was in my own bed, thousands of miles away from him. I was back in my routine of a life and I understood now why people wonder if what we dream is our reality; why would I ever want to live this life away from the only person who makes me feel alive. I want to fall back asleep; I want to be with him again.

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