Dreams have always been vital to me they have been a wing To fly on for my consciousness, but lately there have been few dreams and when I dream it is about places I have been to in other thoughts, meeting people and seeing a nature that is interior where the landscape it thorny and cannot be shared with others. There is strangeness to see friends that do not exist, familiar faces forever young they will just be there and not tell me what to do, a burden one has to tolerate in conscious life. My phone doesn’t ring although I’ve a funny, musical ringer tone. By the lake of wonder virtual friends silently gather, look at me as to say: “When are you going to be our real friend?”But I will not leave before I feel the joy of embracing you again, when you stroke my vanishing hair and tell me that you love me
