A Winter’s Dream

Last night, I had a dream you were angry and you grew ten times your size. You walked through the gray town feeling out of place. Everyone stared but you didn’t care as you stomped through the streets.

I followed you to the seaside past a metal fence with vines wrapped all over it. You looked out at the sea, and I looked at you and said softly, Hey, it’s okay.

You glanced at me from the side, resigned. Then you became sad and shrank to the size of a leaf. The world became a big scary place.

Without a word, you decided to leave and walked away. I found you and cut you off, so we were finally face to face.

I looked at you. The real you.

And I said, You are more than this anger and this sadness.

You are sunshine — and warmth on a winter night.

I cried in my sleep because these words were true. And I prayed and I prayed as you slept soundly beside me, you would know this too.

When you awoke, I told you of this dream and you held me and said,

I know. I know. Do you know that you are special to me too?