In My Dreams

I don’t have dreams very often. But when I do (or at least when I remember them), they are so incredibly real—and I feel as if I’ve been transported to a completely different place.

A few days ago, I had one of those dreams. And it made me wish I was back in my dream and not in my apartment in San Francisco. I could very clearly see the dark wood of the bar…the familiar restaurant setting…the white coat and familiar face… I could even feel the tight embrace and myself grinning from ear to ear.

I woke up confused as to where I was, and then disappointed once I realized it was just a dream. But it was so vivid, so real. Sigh, so disappointing. Why can’t we make some dreams real? Why must we just live in this world of reality?