Dreams - Denise N. Rodier

A/N: This is just a little ficlet I wrote on a bus. Enjoy!

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Dreaming was never something I had really thought about before. And why should I? When you only sleep a few hours every few days or so, well, it's just not that important.

What do you dream? Is it one grand adventure that could never happen in your mediocre life? Are you finally "someone", and you can finally battle the demons, get the girl, tell off your boss, become rich? Totally change?

So why don't I?

Every time I become tired enough to let sleep claim me, I fully expect to see him. At least that much happens. But non-existent are the images of living in a time where we aren't expected to fix the world, where the goon of the week has finally decided to leave me the hell alone, where we touch, kiss, make love tenderly as the watching angels sing their joyous proclamations. That is what I see during the day, after all. But at night...

I see us. But instead of living in pure bliss, we just... live. I open a door, he types on the computer, we have a drink at Crash. At the end, we each go home, alone, to our own beds. Why is it only the reality that I see in my sleep? Why even bother to dream at all?

So... what do you dream?

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