Oct. 22, 2003 @ 11:12 p.m.

As my dream fades away, another starts, replacing the old one with a new beginning that picks up directly in sync with the other dream, as if they were computer files being played through Window’s Media Player. In these dreams, I wish that I drank coffee, so I could keep you out all night, dropping you off at dawn on the doorstep after one of the longest eye staring competitions ever to be held under the unknowing. The way you look into my eyes is something I will never forget. To close my eyes and always see your stare would be like finding an eternal source of happiness that flows, bubbling and so abundantly that science would never find the source but I would know it was there, somewhere. I could drop you off everyday before dawn, only to pick you up before dusk. On occasion we could surf the daylight when we both felt sleeping was an after death activity, if only for that day. I will kiss you on your porch, under the creepingly less moonlit sky, until you tell me no and I can only wonder, "Why?"