Take me to the house. Take me to the house which you cannot locate mindfully. To the house that can only be found in your subconscious.

Take me to the boy. Take me to the boy who lives in the house with his father. Take me to the bou who spends his days in the lush green fields or tall grass and wildflowers.

Let me follow the road that no car drives on. Let me feel the comforting embrace of my friend once more. Let me escape to this place of ultimate comfort. Let me tiptoe through the kitchen, cans scattered across the cold tile.

I want so badly for this place to be real. For the boy to be real. For the the tickling brush of the tall grass against my legs to be real.

But this place, it is but a dream. It always has been. It is a place will forever be unable to reach, no matter the roads I follow.

Maybe these dreams mean something, maybe not. Maybe this is a way of saying I need to find a path to my happiness or maybe it is just some recurring nightmare in disguise.

Thats it, this is no luxurious oasis of mind. It is nothing more than a nightmare, causing me to crave something that will never be.