the sun was setting in a motel room.

i had the kind of dream where i wake up shaking, not really knowing where i am, three out of four limbs asleep and cramped, tension digging spurs into my back.

they wouldn't let me see you, and i knew you were dying. they would only tell me about your condition but held me back from being able to hold you.

i screamed, tortured, and i fell backwards into hysteria. i just kept crying and pleading, and then i blamed them for taking away my meaning, my one purpose in living.

i apologized quietly, still racking from convulsions, and a calm man explained to me that it was me he felt sorry for, having no purpose left, having had my meaning stolen. he wouldn't know what to do if he were in my position, but 'rules are rules.'

i woke up shaking and to rockstar softly saying my name. i wish he had been there with me, so that he would have known how scared i was, but we dream alone most of the time.