I had a dream about you last night.
I was looking for you, in this big colorful house. It was kind of like a funhouse, I guess. There were all these ladders and ropes I had to use to get through it, but I was determined to find you because I had to tell you I loved you. I had to tell you that I didn’t care about all the stupid stuff, I didn’t care that I was putting myself out there unprotected, raw, vulnerable, exposed. I was done playing games—none of it mattered because I loved you back and even though I was years late, I finally knew it with all my heart and I wasn’t scared to say it anymore.
Every once in a while I’d come across another person in the house. They’d look at me curiously and ask what I was doing, and I’d tell them that I was looking for someone, and it was very important. They’d smile and nod and wish me luck and I’d go on my way. I looked for you for a long time and I still couldn’t find you. I was getting frantic, and scared. I had to tell you, I had to– you had to know.
I ran into a group of people—all the same people I had seen before. They asked who I was looking for, but I could barely hear them, because the wind was so loud inside the house. “Dylan!” I shouted. “I’m looking for Dylan S.! Can you please tell me where he is?”
Suddenly their faces fell; interest turned into pity, and they started shaking their heads. “Oh honey,” one woman said, her eyes shining with tears. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been here for a very long time.” My heart sank, and I felt a wave of panic crash over me. “Where is he?” I cried. “ I’ve got to find him I have to tell him!” The group slowly backed away from me, but before they disappeared into the darkness I could just hear the woman’s voice say, “You’ll never find him. He’s forgotten you.”