We Are A Dream

I dreamt of you last night. 

Again.

We were in a meadow, and you were holding my hand.

You told me you loved me. 

That’s how I knew it was a dream. 

Not because of your strange honeycomb eyes, or the way the sky was still being painted blue, as if we were in a kind of loading screen, reality slowly pixelating together. 

Making room for worlds to be born. 

We did not fear the open sky, for we were more than just skin.

We were a feeling.

And you told me you loved me. 

That’s how I knew it was a dream.