Lucid, that’s the word. Actually, it may be the only term to best describe the experience of how last night was, when you dropped by while I was tucked comfortably in bed. You came through the windows, and doors, and walls and locks of my being. Time and again I’m reminded, as you’ve proven, how carefully built defenses easily crumble. You just knew where to hit, the sore spots, the persistent pains from memories and the repetition of all things horrible. A peck on the lips, some family photos, cheesy love songs… and her hand, clasped in yours while you wore that smile that continue to blind the world, beaming. The words that stabbed and poked and nearly murdered this little beating part on my chest. It was a total rerun. Could any dream ever surpass this one? Perhaps not in its clarity, never in its potency to drag a person to tears. You visited, and people talked. You were too vivid, old friend, like how I used to want you to be. Only, your timing’s off. And even if in reality you still call my name and need me, what good is it for? What can meeting again do? Stay where you are. No one wants you here, lingering, in my conscious subconscious consciousness.