Some nights, I find sleep bearable, and I can doze off at will, dreaming some random dream in some random place where I don’t know anyone, except for you, of course, and we’d dance or smile or laugh or sing the night away. Some nights, I dream perfect dreams and wake up just enough to still be on the bridge between fantasy and reality, but be happy either way, knowing you are on both sides.
Other nights, though, I find myself dreading sleep, knowing it will never come, and my dreams won’t be random, because I won’t be dreaming at all, and I won’t be dancing or smiling or laughing or singing, and the night will inch along. Some nights, I wonder what side of the bridge I’m on, or which side you’re on, or if I’m on your bridge at all.