Do you know why it's hard to say goodbye? Because we afraid if our memories might not be able to remember them, rightly. The fact is, goodbye means good. No matter how hard.
~Aurora Esterlia



The most quiet guy I’ve ever met in my dream.
For I never told him but he discovered me.
On gloomy days and streets not so crowd.
I went out, I walked, and crossed the path.
We met while I at the corner.
He stood as he’d been waiting all along.
I think we spent the whole time in silent.
I think I told him it was my dream.
He might not familiar with all these.
This gray world and hidden darkness.
And he met me as if I belong here.
It might not scare him, it might put him in danger.
He was smart.
He learned the labyrinth.
Even he found my weakness.
Feels like he went through all my bookshelves.
Yet on this place, he would never be safe.
My unconscious was hunting him.

The word to describe how he being taken.
He found how worried I was.
Like, “The safest place is get back where you belong.”
But I didn’t know how.
He stuck here because of me.
“I think I found the way out.”
He only touched my shoulders.
He led me.
We end up in sport hall.
His idea to bring himself back.
By bring his own labyrinth.
“Wait here,” he said.
A black flipped chair I sat.
On the wall, he knocking.
A slide-door made by woods.
There must be another big room.
Or might be just sport cupboard.
He opened it.
“I see it,” he confident.
It was all just dark.
He went inside.

To endure without retaliation.
As he knew the consequences.
A nun, scary nun.
Stood right behind him.
He passed the shadow.
I was frightened.
He looked back to reach me back.
He saw how I look.
He opened the wrong door.
It was the further door.
He was going to get out from the place.
My hand tried to reach him.
And the nun took him away.
Our last sight of each other.
We were victims of our own dreams.
Took me a while to realize.
It was really him.
And it was really me, for him.
Like a bridge.
Or, a trip to one another's dream.


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