Let me tell you a story...
There is a man and a woman, both of them far into their age. The live in a small white house, in a small town, surrounded by thin scraggily trees and it seemed that there was always a haze of light over their house no matter if it was day or night. Their lives were dull, they had not much money, they didn't travel, they didn't drive around. They just were. The two had lived together for so long, they had had all the conversations they could. They had lived together for so long, they knew what the other would say before they would say it, they could finish the sentences of their partner. It was so easy that they didn't even have to talk to each other because they knew each other so well. They would wake up every morning, his wife would make breakfast. He would look at the paper and make a remark about the weather. She'd smile and nod. Everyday he would turn on the television and remark about the youth of today. She'd smile and nod. The old woman would knit, nothing in particular, she'd just knit. The old man would say something about fixing the shed, the old woman would knit some more.
This is how they lived each day. One after another, a dull drilling of their breaths. They'd wake up, do their routines, and then fall asleep. But it was in their sleep, that they came alive. She would dream of them dancing on the moon. Because in her dreams the moon wasn't so far away, it wasn't so big. It was just large enough for the two of them to move their feet on. It was just large enough for the two of them to hold each other one. The stars were close too, so close the the old man could pluck one out of the sky and put it in her hair. In his dreams they were on a boat, floating down the bayou, the two of them, rich and young, sitting in lawn chairs drinking expensive wine from expensive glasses. The crickets and frogs would play little instruments and the water would hold their weight. They would dance all night, swinging eacht other wildly, loving every minute of it, holding each other. Everything would be new again. Everything conversation something interesting, something fresh. Every kiss would be a new kiss. In their dreams, they were lovers again. A piano would be playing a song all the time, in their dances. Nothing in particular, just a song.
One day, the man woke up, but his wife didn't. One day, he had to be without her. One day, he was the luckiest man in the world, and the next he wasn't. He wondered, where was he before the day that he saw her lovely face? In a never-ending ocean of eyes, would he be able to recognize hers? When he went to sleep that night, after closing the box she would fly away in, and tucking her to sleep, he dreamt. He dreamed again, that they were young, that they would be forever. He dreamed that they lived happily forever after. He dreamed and never woke.
This is how they lived each day. One after another, a dull drilling of their breaths. They'd wake up, do their routines, and then fall asleep. But it was in their sleep, that they came alive. She would dream of them dancing on the moon. Because in her dreams the moon wasn't so far away, it wasn't so big. It was just large enough for the two of them to move their feet on. It was just large enough for the two of them to hold each other one. The stars were close too, so close the the old man could pluck one out of the sky and put it in her hair. In his dreams they were on a boat, floating down the bayou, the two of them, rich and young, sitting in lawn chairs drinking expensive wine from expensive glasses. The crickets and frogs would play little instruments and the water would hold their weight. They would dance all night, swinging eacht other wildly, loving every minute of it, holding each other. Everything would be new again. Everything conversation something interesting, something fresh. Every kiss would be a new kiss. In their dreams, they were lovers again. A piano would be playing a song all the time, in their dances. Nothing in particular, just a song.
One day, the man woke up, but his wife didn't. One day, he had to be without her. One day, he was the luckiest man in the world, and the next he wasn't. He wondered, where was he before the day that he saw her lovely face? In a never-ending ocean of eyes, would he be able to recognize hers? When he went to sleep that night, after closing the box she would fly away in, and tucking her to sleep, he dreamt. He dreamed again, that they were young, that they would be forever. He dreamed that they lived happily forever after. He dreamed and never woke.