Dreamweaver

“I missed you,” I whispered to him.

“I missed you, too,” he told me.

With that, the ten years between us were gone.

“Naibabalik pala ‘yung dati,” he said, with a shy smile.

But of course, it’s only an approximation of what we’ve had, and we both know it.

He’s married. And I’m gay.

I like watching people sleep. Particularly you.

It’s as if, I am awaiting you from a long journey. And I am selfish. I want to be the first to welcome you when you open your eyes.

It’s also like you’re being born again and I am your proud mother/father. One look in your eyes and we are connected, a perpetual bond is forged in between.

Or if it is me sleeping, I would like you to be the first one I see. It will be like I never left. Or have come back to home. I nestle between your chin and your chest.

Had that chance once. Some two seasons ago (because in this part of the world, there are only two). Before my father died. After I had died (but I am, right now, slowly being resurrected). When I met you for the first time.

I had that chance once. Only once.

You are awake. And I am left dreaming.

I wonder sometimes, if, in sleeping, one is able to stop time. I imagine, doing nothing somehow keeps the status quo. Like how water in the glass remains constant, or how the worn shirt stays in the bin. Or how the slippers don’t move.

I wonder, if there’s magic in all of these that some things in constant, never changing.

I wonder, too, if we can, do the same with friendships, or lovers or the consequences of these relationships. Would remaining stagnant be actually better than moving it forward destructively.

What is then, the reality. Those scenes you see when your eyes are closed? Or the ones you wish your eyes are closed to.