Dreams weren't reality.

It was a lie to believe they were.

Yet, I couldn't help but wish it was.

No lie was never not beautiful.

I was a normal person, no special than any other. And yet, my dreams were special.

At least, they were to me.

No lie could be trusted.

Every night, I was something more. Whenever I dreamt, he was always there, his grave startling blue eyes watching me.

And when I woke, there would be no evidence, he was real.

Except, I could almost believe that his smell was lingering in the air.