About Dreaming

Where words end, the night continues.

There are moments that refuse to end when the conversation stops. They stretch, spill, and echo into the quiet after the screen goes dark.

Tonight was one of those moments.

It was time to go. We said the things that usually close a day - good night, sleep well, rest easy. But instead of ending, the space between us turned into something else: an invitation to follow me past waking.

A kiss, described in words but felt in the body. A hesitation, then an insistence. And then, a promise that was more than words: I will now.

It wasn’t about what happened - it was about what continues.

When lips linger on the edge of sleep,
they become memory,
and when memory refuses to stay still,
it becomes a dream.

And so, the night is no longer just mine or yours. It belongs to both of us, suspended, waiting to be replayed on the stage of the subconscious.

Dream of me.

— K