Dream beings are human beings.

Every once & awhile you meet someone who is truly iridescent. And then no one else, nothing else, can compare.

Maybe you meet them in a dream. In your head. Maybe this person isn't even real.

Perhaps this person is inspired by a human being you've met before.

But maybe he's only a made up person... a dream version - taking up the space in your brain,

replacing the empty, echoing halls of your head.

Sometimes I meet them when I'm asleep. In that dusty, little corner of my subconscious self.

The place where worlds collide. Dream beings become human beings

& the things I thought were real turn into dream scenes.

I don't know if they're alive or dead... but they're in my head. Living their lives & dreaming their dreams.

Moving, breathing people, held together by stories & sticks, and wishes & bones.

Maybe he's only a hope or a half-concocted fantasy, a phantom - wandering the melancholic, hollow halls of my veins, born within the echoing walls that house the lazy, hazy yearnings of my slowly dying heart.

All I know is that they are real to me. And that I know them. They know me.

Sometimes they know me better than myself.

(or maybe I'm just sleeping.)