That early morning thought and the dream I just had were exchanging notes. Or perhaps were contributing to each other’s entertainment. Much to my misery.

Just the other day, in a casual water cooler conversation, I exclaimed how I do not remember my dreams. And TBH, I don’t very often. And that changed this morning.

I’m not sure how she ended up there. While I had a completely random small talk with an old batch mate and she popped right there. It was like when Leo’s wife pushes her way into his dream in Inception. Only it wasn’t scary. And she wasn’t trying to kill me or herself.

We talked like we’ve always done in my head. We laughed over the silliness that the world is and how we are the smart ones figuring things out. It felt like we both had each other. Like that time. And that time returned somehow. It felt good to have her back.

Waking up with that feeling and for a split second actually thought it was real. Real as it can get until the light peeping from the window pushes in the reality of the day.

I didn’t wanted to wake up. I wanted to go back to that conversation. To the long walk. To the silly fights. To being happy. To being angry at someone. To just go back.

The voices in the head tell me it’s morning. But I intend to head back to the night.

But it’s unreal they say.

Is it not good ? I replied.

Pulled over the blanket and went back to sleep. It was a weekend after all.