I had the dream again last night. The one in which I see the boy I’ve always loved but never met.

Everything was silent around us. But somehow the look in his deep green eyes whispered into my heart.

I’ve never spoken to him, but somehow I know that we would stay up deep into the night, talking about philosophy or maybe just the weather. Somehow I know that he wouldn’t mind my waking in the middle of the night to scribble down a sentence or two inspired by a dream. He would appreciate my abstract art. He would read my poetry, and he would honestly tell me if it was horrible.

His dark hair sticks up at odd angles as I view him through a storefront window or catch his reflection in a rearview mirror.

We’ve never met, no. But somehow I know that he would twirl my hair around his fingers when he got bored, and that he would take me hiking in the Blue Hills. We’d drive for miles, flipping a coin when faced with a right or left turn.

When I wake, I see his face like the afterimage of a camera flash.