It was Aaron’s dream, I knew that right away from the dusty, sun-soaked edges of it, the way the backyard smells in the summer. Warm, humid air mixed with the sawdust from my dad’s personal projects that he would do in the shed he built on the other end the yard, projects he would sometimes let Aaron and me help with, never letting us use the saw, but giving us goggles and gloves just so we could pretend we were part of it. That’s what Aaron’s dreams—the non-nightmare ones—feel like, always, no matter what they’re about.

Except this one was about building stuff with our dad. But Aaron was himself, as he is now, not little kid Aaron. He and my dad were in the yard, putting together what looked like a doghouse, which was eventually confirmed by the CUTEST dog in the world loping into the scene. I hung back, sitting on our back porch, just watching them laugh and smile. Aaron hadn’t noticed I was here and I didn’t want to disturb him. He was happy. My dad was happy.

I was so outside of it and I didn’t know how I would possibly get in. Before I could get up and walk toward them, the dream changed and suddenly the porch was the edge of a cliff and Aaron and my dad were sitting on a cloud hanging over a broad canyon beneath us. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a thing out of my brain, of my own creation, unbelievably real and yet something more than real. Like being inside a magical world or a beautifully painted picture book. And Aaron and my dad paid absolutely no attention to it. They just kept laughing and smiling and working on the doghouse, the puppy running happy circles around them, kicking up the cloud into perfect wisps that went unappreciated.

I was sat atop my own, perfect kingdom, surveying its beauty, unable to bridge the gap between the edge of the canyon and the circumference of the cloud. A sad and lonely king with an infinite kingdom and no subjects.

Writing about it isn’t like being in it. When I woke up I had such a sense of joy and peace, but now that I’ve written all that out … it wasn’t as perfect as I thought. Maybe dreams aren’t meant to be examined too closely.

MARCH 3RD, 2017

I just keep doing everything wrong. My family, Damien, Dr. Bright, Emily, everything.