I'm at a party, filled with people from my life and a few other characters that are recognizable, but only because they're placeholders in my dreams.

This party is in a large house, and I'm looking for something. I talk to various people, and everyone offers me a tiny blue pill. I reject this pill, because it's not what I'm looking for.

But everywhere I go, I find these pills. I sit on a bed, the pills are in the folds of the bedsheets. I go to the kitchen, the pills are in the fridge. I try to use the phone, and the buttons are the pills.

Exasperated at this dream, I take one of the pills. And immediately, I find you. In the dining room. I'm suffused with joy, because I haven't seen you in ages. You're eating some strange combination of a Hershey's chocolate bar, and Skittles. I run into your arms and kiss you. I taste chocolate, and sour and sweet and you.

Kissing, kissing, kissing. I don't ever want to stop kissing you. There is electricity in our mouths, our tongues, our skin, our groins. Don't stop kissing me. Don't stop kissing me. Don't ever stop kissing me.

But the kiss ends. And I wake up.

To find only a hole where you used to be.

I hate that hole. I want to kill it. To rend it. To tear it into tiny little pieces with a murderous rage because I hate the absence it signifies more than anything I've ever hated in my life.

But it won't go away. Nor will my mind which played this cruel trick on me.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I cry.