in my dream he was here without being invited, drinking Mexican beer, and he got in my face in a... it wasn't a bad way, i guess. i could not tell if he wanted to hit me or kiss me. maybe he didn't know either. and it was a sign of something but i don't know how i should read it. and he looked so good with the fire blazing in his eyes, smoldering in the darkness there. and there i was a stranger in my own life; unsure of how i had ended up in this place--not certain of my place or my purpose. and regardless of how i feel, i know that he could care less because it makes it so easy for him. easier to pretend otherwise and to hide his thoughts and feelings away so he doesn't have to deal, to hide behind some ideal, some expectation, some girl. part of me thinks he wanted to tell me that he likes me; but i woke up before he could say it, before he could tell me it was me. it was so damn real. and i have seen that expression on his face before. and that expression reminded me of being lost and broken, stumbling through the desert a lifetime ago sandblind, drained by the sun and the heat and i just collapsed before the Oasis and layed there staring at the water, unable to move.

yesterday the sky was big and blue, the clouds mottled. the wind in my hair felt nice and for a few moments i felt like i was coming out of this. i thought of calling and putting him on the spot. forcing this issue. and the question in my mind that i have to answer is: do i let this one in a million love get away?