Christ it was another make-up session with first-love/-obsession/-narcissistic-frenemy D'Arcy this time. We’d gone to an old-school fancy restaurant, i.e. French in a dark oak-paneled room. We talked so much upon being seated that when the server first came over we hadn’t even picked up our menus. I’d immediately apologized for “how I’d been back in high school,” but she shushed me and started talking naturally to me like Simona Joyce, the popular girl from senior year who I became friends with who decades later told me via facebook that she had actually been hard-crushing on me. At some point I realized with the drain of lucidity that I was dreaming, and I thought to myself, “If I could transfer my #StillMasking cautiousness in realtime to dreamtime, I wouldn’t be here,” to which <poof!> I woke up.

#Dream