He holds me while he’s sleeping, and I drift away from this world and into the next. Away from the broken promises of right now or who I thought I would be today and into dreams, where things are strange and I can romp through elysian fields dressed up as someone else.
This world is not what I thought it would be. Which is why sleep comes easy these days – I would rather be there, in an imagination of something similar but also so different. In a realm of slight adjustments to the daily news cycle and tweaks to the functioning of our modern economic system. In dreams, we are happy together. When I wake up, we are still here.
I make long lists in my mind of what is wrong with the world and how that stops us from being happy together. I jot down notes about the stresses of paying rent and showing up to work on time and remembering to bring your ID with you everywhere you go. I write short stories about a world where we come and go as we choose, where we are not fenced in by local politics and overpopulation and pollution. These are tomes of simplicity not regression. I seek ideals of the best us that we could be – not the struggle against reality that we embody now.
He draws me in closer, and this is the best that we could possibly be in a world like this. We have done everything we can to survive together in this place. There are no improvements between us without the world drastically and fundamentally changing. This is who we are. This is who we will always be. We cannot change us. I doubt we will change the world.