Sometimes I’ll dream about sitting on your passenger seat with yellow, green, and blue blurs beside me. We’re looking at different directions, but moving in one. And it’s weird because it’s my dream but you have total control, just like you have total control of this car you’re driving. In my dream, we aren’t talking, neither to each other nor ourselves, but the fact that we saw different things says enough. We will never see the same things, just like I’ll never get to sit in the driver’s seat and finally have some sort of control. But this is only a dream.
When I wake up, you don’t exist. And when I think about it, you didn’t really have a face in my dreams. You don’t exist, and yet I am left feeling like I miss you.