Photo not mine

I woke up from a very good dream.Well, I never really knew it was a dream until I woke up.

I woke up with a heavy heart. And I finally agree with John Mayer that when you’re dreaming with a broken heart, waking up is the hardest part.

You know you’re damned the moment you wake up and realize that you’re still alive.

You know you’re damned the moment you wake up and realize that you cannot possibly go back to the best days of your life.

You know you’re damned the moment you wake up and realize that some things are just dream-bound, partly because it will never happen or because it will never happen again.

You know you’re damned when you wake up and realize that some of the best possible realities cannot go outside the confines of your dreams.

No matter how much I read into the situation and try to twist it until it looks the way I want it to, I can never deny that being with him again was and will be just that: a dream.

In as much as I want to tell myself that I wasn’t consciously thinking of him or of what has been, I can’t just ignore the fact that I dreamt about him. That means, subconsciously, I was thinking about him or anything that reminds me of him. Or of what has been.

In my dream, I was able to talk to him. Be with him. Laugh with him. Hear him say he loves me.

We held hands. We laid on our backs, next to each other, watching the stars glow and fade. We listened to each others heartbeats. We kissed.

And just right after that, I woke up. Didn’t I realize that such thing as good as that ends? Didn’t I realize that such thing as good and glorious and wonderful as that is just that? A dream.

That dream? It was a lie!

That dream? It was a treacherous enemy. I cannot trust that dream because it was filled with better days.