By Cooper Anderson
I walk amongst your dreams. Each and every night. Gathering the bits of your dreams that I like or admire. Nothing big. Nothing valuable. You do not even notice they’re gone after I take them. I live on the food that you think of but never eat. I drink from the lake that visits you, recurrently, every few months or so. I think it’s a lake from your childhood. It seems like a happy place, but I can never be sure about these things.
I am there, in your dreams, each and every night. Passing the fantasies and illusions in your head when the world is quiet and still outside your bedroom. You won’t ever see me. Even if you look for me. You’re far too busy, falling from the sky, or forgetting your trousers in math class, or remembering what it was like to be nineteen and in love, ever to notice me. I’ve been at this for a long time and I can hide very well.
If you are concerned about privacy, do not worry. I look away when the attractive co-worker with the curly blonde hair or the movie star from your favorite film pays you a visit. I swear I don’t look. Honest. But I must say that leather outfit you wear looks great on you.
It’s not just the dreams that I journey. I walk amongst your nightmares as well. I saw when he left you and you cried all those tears. I was there when you were eaten by the Minotaur of the Labyrinth and when all those translucent, withered hands (which were the hands of your dead grandmother) grabbed you by your ankles and dragged you down into that deep, dark grave. You didn’t see me, but I was there all the same.
Hmm? What’s that? No, I cannot help you. It is not allowed.
Sometimes you die in your dreams. It is their way. You die, and then you wake up in the real world, confused or sometimes angry. While the walls of your dreams crumble around me. Like ash in the wind. Leaving me alone, in the dark, until the next time you sleep. It is all right. I am patient. I can wait.
I’ll see you soon enough.