Null

As I walked through On The Heights, I was thinking about a few things, or perhaps several, even though I know you live in the midst of my dreams, or perhaps my fantasies reside elsewhere, somewhere in my connected subconscious. But I also know I'm in reality, and I don't have you. For me, the concept of sleep is strange, but every time I count sheep, it's the only time I can see you. You "exist" only in my dreams, and that makes me never want to wake up again. The first time I saw you, that little boy in diapers with a bow and arrows shot at me with astonishing accuracy, leaving me mesmerized by you. I wonder if you look both ways when you pass through my mind every time I close my eyes. I'm so tired and fed up with chasing you every time you're in my dreams, and I can never catch you to at least ask your name or see your face again, a face that seems so strange and enigmatic to me. One day, lost in thought, I heard the sound of an elevator opening, so I went to investigate. There I found the source of my dreams: you. I quickly approached you, taking your hand to feel you. I looked at you and thought you were really just in my dreams, but when I felt you, I knew it wasn't a dream. So I looked at you and said, "Can we kiss you? Can we make this last forever?" I didn't know if I would ever see you again if we were separated at any stop in that elevator, and I just wanted to feel you to see if you were real or a figment of my dreamlike imagination.