Incubus

it's a funny thing, the subconscious. it captures the nitty gritty detail of the day's happenings and blows it up into one big dream. last night, i saw him pull up beside me. excitedly i rolled down the window and leaned out of the backseat of the crv, waving and calling out. there was a quirky, distorting quality to everything. how young he looked, untouched by the time that has passed, me just as delighted as i would have been to see him. and just like that, it ended. at least i'm not holding back imaginary horses in my sleep.