And In The End...Who Can Say What Really Is Real?
The other night’s morning, I dreamed you into existence. You lived in my subconscious, just past the heartache and the sweet tooth, on Memory Lane. Silver highlights shone in your warm brown hair…You were older than I’d expected, middle-aged even. This was pleasing, I suppose. I can only fathom what I was thinking when you came to be. On Memory Lane, you lived in a two story home with a loft over-looking the kitchen/dining room/living space on the first floor and I moved in with you. We had several pets, all with intricate personalities and mannerisms. You had friends, lots of warm, cynical, gay, skeptical and loving friends. They liked me, better than my own friends sometimes do. They loved you, to a fault. You didn’t have a name, I just called you Sweetness. You called me Tor. Apparently I was middling-aged as well. My light brown (that’s just a nice way of saying dishwater blond ) sideburns and goatee sported silver-grey flecks. We hadn’t known one another very long, but… You seemed to know everything about me. I owned a restaurant, on the other side of The Hill (which we most certainly were NOT over yet) and past Early Childhood Day Care. You programmed computers, or something I never quite understood, beyond Middle School Night Mare Stables and near the Upper Echelon Desert (only ten blocks from Skid Row High.) I had friends outside of yours (they having been called into existence at the first remembrance of their necessity) and we all met up for coffee at the Vaguely Familiar Mall on alternating Tuesdays, Fridays and every day we had a chance. You and I may have had children, either young or mostly grown by this point of our lives; I can’t recall. If we did, they were gorgeous and took after you more than me. Yes, they were adopted, if they existed at all. In our old age, twenty five minutes after being called into existence for the first time, we moved to Wyoming’s Restful Promises Assisted Living Facility. My restaurant was world-renowned and franchised across five continents, your computer, or something, company one of the fortune 500 traded daily on Wall Street. We left our businesses in the competent hands of our theoretical (if they were there at all) children’s children and contented ourselves with new pets, old friends, good food and good drink. As we watched the sunset on the eye blink of an existence we lived, you pontificated that, whilst this was merely a dream…Perhaps it is not the only reality to cease upon waking. I knew within a breadth of a second that I would love you eternally, even if our eternity chanced to be a mere thirty seven minutes in length. As we drifted into an eternal slumber, and as I awoke into my prominent reality, you murmured to me “How many have lost faith because heaven showed them too much?” I wonder, if I understood that, would I understand the secrets of my universe as you did the secrets of ours? And, in the end, does it even matter? Is it not enough to be born, live, love, work and die knowing there are those out there to give your life for, who would give theirs for you if the occasion arose? I think it is.