You were in my dream last night. Almost. You were there, but you were always one step ahead of me, and I couldn’t reach you. We were in a city, and I kept asking people where you were; but when I got to that location, you were gone. Someone had seen you, but you left to head somewhere else. And off I would go. Searching for you. I knew there were people and buildings around me, but as in most dreams, everything was mostly a blur.

My single focus was you. The rest of my experiences didn’t seem to matter. Through twists and turns, lefts and rights, I kept losing you. I was also losing myself. The more I looked for you, the less I could see of anything else around me. When my dream ended, you were still just a few steps ahead of me and I was in a blur.

I woke up disoriented. Where were you? Where was I? I could almost feel your presence, but you weren’t there. All I could feel were the blankets wrapped around me and the sweat on my forehead.

Am I still chasing you in real life? You aren’t here. You are gone. I can’t touch you, but I am still chasing after you. Is it you that I am chasing, or the idea of you? Am I chasing the idea of what I want my life to be instead of what it is?

Through twists and turns, I look for you, but I can’t see the life I’m living now. Through lefts and rights, I look for you, but I can’t see the people who are beside me. My life is a blur as I search for you. Events pass by me in a hazy swirl because my focus is elsewhere. In missing you with my heart, I am losing my life in the present.

How can I balance the two? How can I accept that you are forever unreachable but always close? I need to accept that as far as I stretch out my arms, my fingers will never touch you. Only my heart can touch you. My fingers must touch reality. I need to reach for my life instead of just the memory of you.

As I lie awake in my room, with the dream fading from view, the sun starts to rise. I see shadows and shapes slowly take form. My reality starts to emerge as the light filters in. I am still wrapped in blankets, but I am no longer draped in a fog. Colours appear, and then textures. I am afraid to move because I don’t want to break the spell of seeing my surroundings for the first time again.

I am still in the blankets and I know I am safe. I can’t touch you, but I realize I am holding you in my heart. Your memory is safe. The fog needs to lift. I need to stop chasing. I must start walking my own path again.

One foot, and then the other. I will rise.