I had a dream last night. It was good, but it was fake. It lasted, it felt real. But the truth of the matter is that it wasn't. I was with someone, someone I loved. I showed them my house, we played music, we had a good time. I didn't question how they knew where my house was, or any of the other inconsistencies in the dream. And I knew it was a dream. The whole time I knew, but I wanted the dream. I needed the dream. I miss them everyday. Do they know that I miss them? Do they care? What's the point in wondering. At least I can still dream.