I dreamt about you last night.
I chased you up and down corridors,
through apartments and operating rooms,
and always you remained a step ahead.
Eventually, you lost me.
I wasn’t sure quite where I was.
I tried to retrace my steps,
but I had been watching you, not where I was going.
And then I saw you,
in another room
in another part of the building
far away from where my prying eyes could actually reach.
You turned around,
wondering where I had gotten to.
You organized a search party,
looking everywhere you could think of.
But I was in a stairwell,
climbing slowly toward the rooftop.
From there, I’d be able to see everywhere;
I’d be able to see everything.
Then the dream was over.
We never quite united.
And though I’m not one for meanings,
I wondered what it meant.
I’m staying right behind you for now,
but I won’t be there forever.
Perhaps this dream wasn’t meant for me,
but rather you instead.