I was sitting down next to someone in a dream, kicking it and talking about whatever we were talking about.
He wanted to tell me everything that he dreamed about, and it was more or less a normal life with the woman and the house and the two and a half kids and the cars.
He was a nice enough fellow but I was lost in thought as he spoke and I know he could tell that I didn’t relate to anything he was saying.
He stopped talking and I told him it was okay and that hearing about his dreams and what makes him happy makes me happy.
He asked me “What do you dream about?”
I thought about it for a second, thinking, well, this will be awkward.
I started off hesitantly: “I dream that you exist.”
I continued: “And I dream that I exist.”