Yesterday I dreamed of an alternative version of a friend, a naive and really close one. It is quite a realistic dream, and as usual, despite having a catastrophic ending, saddened me when I woke up from it.
Dreams are such a romantic subject. By their nature, the exact same dream never comes twice, though some dreams have connections to other dreams. There are ways to control dreams, but I am nowhere good at it.
There are nightmares ranging from utterly hilarious (but still terrifying) to unreal and heartbreaking. There are sweet dreams that I cannot decide whether real life is worth returning to, had I gotten a choice. Some of these are so selfish that I am slightly disgusted by my subconsciousness.
To me, the imaginary friends in my dreams live on, as long as I can remember them. Their memories form part of my mind, and I am not going to trade them for anything.