Sleep

There once was a little girl.
She dreamed about a little boy.
He was nice to her,
not like the others.
He didn’t run away from her,
afraid of her overbearing personality.
He didn’t laugh and make fun of her
for the little extra weight she had on.
And they held hands and laughed.
And
she
was
happy.

And she woke up and realized it
was only a dream.
And she couldn’t remember his face.
And she couldn’t remember his name.
All she knew was her hand felt
empty.

But she went to school the next day and smiled
and played with her friends,
and ignored the other boys,
and forgot her hand was empty.

The little girl grew up a little bit.
She went to middle school.
And she met this boy again,
and he was unlike the others,
and they laughed,
and gossiped,
and maybe even kissed (only once).
And they held hands when no one was looking,
and laughed a lot.
And
she
was
happy.



And she woke up and realized it
was only a dream.
And she couldn’t remember his face.
And she couldn’t remember his name.
All she knew was her lips felt
lonely.

But she went to school the next day,
and smiled an empty smile,
and made new friends, and lost some old ones,
and forgot her lips were lonely.

The kind-of-little girl grew up a little more
and she cried a lot,
for no reason.
But she had good friends and a
good life.
Sometimes she even won things,
or got a B on her tests.  
She didn’t dream very often, and
usually,
they were nightmares.

And she met a boy,
and he was patient,
and not like the others,
but there
was something wrong, because he
had no face,
and
she
was happy
and
she knew she was dreaming.

She woke up and knew,
and she cried,
this time for a reason.
And she went to school, and didn’t forget
his name or his face
because there was nothing to remember.


The now-grown girl,
was in college and
she still cried quite a lot,
and slept even more,
not to dream, but just to
sleep.

There were no more dreams.

And she met her boy,
now too a man,
and they were one and she
cried, because he
still didn’t have a face, but
he had a
voice.

And he told her,
he was sorry, and she didn’t know
why.
And she told him she wanted to stay, and
he told her she couldn’t, that she had to
live.

And she woke from her dream, convinced
it was reality,
felt his presence, and
cried,
and went back to sleep,
where she still couldn’t remember
his face, or his voice, or his name, or his touch.

And every day she woke
over and over
and she wanted to sleep
and she didn’t see him often anymore
but when she did
she
was
happy.

The woman woke up one day and
was tired,
so she went to sleep
again,
hoping to stay with him forever,
with the help of a few friends
and chased it with some fire,
and she woke up in heaven,
where she would no longer need to dream
or
cry

And he remained in limbo
And he cried and
he was
not
happy.
He told her to live,
and he couldn’t go to heaven,
and she would never dream again,
and he never forgot her face
or her voice
or her name
and he was not
happy.