There are sometimes when I wish that my dreams weren't so real, so often or so wonderful.

I had driven with some friends to San Francisco to attend a music camp that was there, apparently. I was given some sheet music, and we sat in the staduim-like seating getting ready to auditoin. I had gone outside to go to the restroom, I think, and had befriended another singer, who told me in no uncertain terms that the music I had was quite wrong, and that we were supposed to have a huge pile of music in our hands, of which we were only supposed to sing two specific pieces. I did not have either, and I even had trouble repeating them to her (she was appalled). Ah, arias.

Back at my room, I got a call from a friend I haven't heard from in quite a while. His voice was completely clear, I still remember. I asked him how he had found me there, in San Francisco, so randomly. He said he got the number from my Ex. My friend did not know I was away from home, only that he was calling to say hello. And also that he had promised my ex to send me to the east coast. And so...

There I was. It was a bonfire, I am pretty sure. And while it seemed so natural that I was there, I know that the only one I knew there was him. It was dark, and I think that there was a little small talk before he reached over and what seemed like forever passed between ghost-like kisses. I wasn't awkward, not tripping over myself leaning into him like I do..our fingers entwined and though it was so simple, it was passionate. And for once it didn't seem to matter that there were other people around. They probably didn't even exist. I don't remember much after that, but I think it is enough.