I tell you of the place that is both waking and sleeping, the place in which you free yourself from where you are without leaving where you are, and that is the difference. That you are coherent but dreaming, lost in a different world even though your feet are still firmly planted on the same ground as ever. This is where I belong, where I am surely meant to be.
     I'm not sure why it seems so ridiculously important to explain this to you. I feel as though it is imperative for you to understand and accept and believe, like I will feel terribly foolish if you don't.
     I know you are listening. But are you hearing? By the odd, familiar expression on your face you do not comprehend. It is the same look I received when I told you I could fly- when I told you I remember when dragons and fairies did exist- and I knew one day they would steal me away to be with them. Yes, I recall thinking this, and the later thoughts of death as with age came the all-too-clear knowledge that they would never come. I remember knowing I couild fly away, and wanting to. You ask why I did not. I tell you, "I was biding my time. I was waiting for you."
     You do not understand when I tell you I am older than I am. But age comes quickly for those who do not belong here- for those who are destined to wander the place that is both waking and sleeping.

Don't call,
  I won't pick up the phone
Don't knock,
  I won't answer the door
Don't visit,
  I'm no longer here-
I'm gone
  I will return no more
I'm leaving...

L

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