I saw you in a dream again last night.

You smiled. You laughed with me and took my hand. Though buildings crumbled about us we stayed happy and lighthearted; you were so open and full of light.

When I awoke, I was still smiling. I made my tea and brushed my hair and drove to school, the sides of my mouth curling up despite themselves.

And you were there – against the wall like always with your head down and your arms crossed. Your eyes darted up at me once as I sat down. I could see the luminance in them for a split second before the gray clouded over once again. As though nothing happened, they became preoccupied with the details of the pitted drop ceiling of the library.

I’ll never really know more about you than your name, I suppose.

I’ll never know if you’re an enigma, or another brick wall.

I’ll never know if the light I see in you is yours, or just mine reflecting back in hope.