“I can see the package…”

I said in my dream

I was trying to make the conversation last

Words are like packages sometimes

We forget that they are only symbols

So beautiful

So shiny

Mysterious and meticulously wrapped

But often filled with nothing

But the fear of opening up.

“I can see the package these days”

I said,

I didn’t know how else to say it

That I felt nothing in you was ever packaged

That you seemed to communicate beyond symbols

In ways I could never articulate

“I can see the package”

I said from inside a dream

I didn’t know I was having.

It was nighttime

And I was looking out of a window

At a dimly lit city street stretched out in the distance

Holding the conversation to my ear like a seashell

Not wanting it to end before saying

What could not be packaged.

Light from the street reflected off of the wet pavement

As if it had been raining earlier that day.

I could see you through the sound of your voice

And through the sound of your silence

I felt you grow further away

We were talking like it was okay.

I didn’t know I was dreaming.

zgDaniel

8/27/15