03.04.03 - 9:05

i don't know what i was looking for but it was fun watching you guys do what you do. outside there were lights shaped like stars, strung from pole to pole. it was like a frat party or a cabana or the 4th of july in a lower-middle-class neighborhood. you had long fingers and i imagined them on a piano while i watched them on a cash register. we played some games with numbers and laughed at the things we learned. we were quiet when it got dark outside.

i don't remember what we came for or why we left. like i said, i'm not really sure.

what was your deal, your purpose? you were fluttering here and there and then i got tired and i forgot about you in time for a new sunrise and coffee in a paper cup.

the dreams don't really mean anything, you keep telling yourself. they keep telling you. everyone keeps telling you. just random synapses firing. brain junk. cut and paste. it can't mean anything. that's what everyone says. but sometimes when you're all alone and you can talk quietly to yourself you try to puzzle it out. there has to be something in the way those images fell together, the sweat on the back of your neck when you woke. the things you can't forget and the things you can't remember. it's funny, isn't it. all the pieces fit so neatly when you sit up in the morning and by nighttime they've all fallen at your feet, broken shadows of themselves. but it's ok. this isn't death, it's just the opposite. the kind of reincarnation that happens every night. recycled dreambits floating behind you eyes. all the things you can't forget and all the things you didn't want to remember. it's some sort of joke and it's ok to laugh at it even when you don't quite understand why.

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