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so i pack up the tent in the morning,
kinda of grudgingly cause i’m depressed as hell,
and i head back to the house.

i have a bottle of malbec and decide to have a glass with lunch.

then i pass out.
in my dream, you return.
we talk on the phone about sleeping bags
and i dare to tell you that i missed you.
you say, “yea, i get it.”
and i tell you that i think i still have your flashlight.
you agree that you will come by to get it.

i insist you should just stay the night since it’s a few hours drive.
you hesitate, but then agree once I tell you that I’ll make breakfast sausage with coffee cakes in the morning.

i get so ecstatic and hang up the phone.
i should realize it’s a dream at this point because it’s an old fashioned landline phone.
but instead, i start readying my house.
and as i’m looking in the mirror,
i wake up and realize that it was just another dream.