Me the Dreamer

Walking back across the moonlit tarmac, light on my feet and warm in my heart, there isn’t much to do but dream. That’s all I ever do these days. My mind plays wonderfully beautiful movies across the screen of my imagination. Some days I’ll dream about the past, and miss it sorely. Some days I’ll dream about the future that will never be. Today though, I dream about a girl; the reason for my nightly walks across the line. Her smile brightens my night, her comments enlighten my mind, and her eyes sparkle with intensity…seemingly at me. As I’ve already said, I like to dream. A few sentences spoken between us can change my mood, so this trip is good for me. A cup of coffee, a friendly smile, all good for me. The walk back would be full of sorrow and tears if it weren’t for my endless imagination. She takes interest in me, I say. She looks at me and smiles, and the world stops turning. It’s mutual, I say. She cares for me, I say. I dream, I say. Get real, I say. Back to work, I say. And back to work I go. It’ll happen again tomorrow. I’ll dream my dreams and my world will be fulfilled. She’ll live her life as she always has, and she’ll never know that, for me, she was the world. It’s too tempting to interfere, and yet too abhorring to touch and tarnish such a fragile piece of perfection. She’ll live on in me as only a dream to satisfy my longing for a reality that isn’t to be, a future I’ll never see. Is this dream all there is for me, or am I fleeing from a love that is meant to be?