Last night I dreamed of you.
You were with me on the first day of college, which doesn’t make sense because I only met you a few months ago. I don’t remember much about the dream except that you spoke to me and said that you wanted to get to know me better. And when I woke up the next morning, I was for the first time in a long time hopeful that I had something to look forward to from now on.
Until I realized that everything had been just a dream. Mortified, I wondered how I had come to dream about you in the first place.
There are times when I look back on that conversation and wonder if it simply had been an effect of lightheadedness. Was I maybe too sleepy, or maybe a bit drunk? Am I so starved for affection that any new person who truly talks to me makes me come up with a thousand imagined futures? Did I just misread that moment – or did you enjoy talking to me as well? Did you think, too, that after trudging through several painful and forced conversations over the years, you had finally found a person that you just wanted to talk to indefinitely?
Nothing about this whole mess makes sense and it scares me. Perhaps in a week or two I will find a new obsession and will forget that once I dreamed of you.