The sound of your voice still rings in my ears; present even after the dream has ended. Was it all a dream? It all felt so real: The bombs blasting as innocent hearts broke; the sweat on your face when you told me to run; the look in your eyes that told me to trust you.
It wasn’t pain that I saw…it was something else. Hope maybe? Hope that we would make it out alive, or the hope that it would end soon? I guess I’ll never know.
But there was definitely something there, for at that moment, your lips curled into a crooked smile, and you took my hand. Seconds later, it felt like we were flying. Away from the blood and sadness, leaving the flames in the past. All that remained was you and I, and I knew that I had never felt more alive.
But all good things must come to an end, for in the blink of an eye, I found myself in my bed, sheets curled around my legs and my heart pounding. It must have been a dream. Some childhood fantasy I fabricated in my young mind. And yet…
I walk over to the windowsill, suddenly eager to feel the morning breeze on my face.
Today, you still haunt my dreams. For years your face has been engraved in my memory, and the way you made me feel still vibrates in every atom of my being. Every night the same. Every night I feel your gentle touch on my hand and your crooked smile on my lips as we take flight. Every night it ends too soon, and I awake in the same cold sweat and a gnawing in my heart that longs for the dream to return.
Longing for your tangled hair and crooked smile. Longing to know who you are and why you visit my dreams. Longing for you to save me.
Longing to return to Neverland.
