Your face is glowing in the flickering light. As I look through the fire to see your shape, the flames lick the night and swell around you. We sit here, in the middle of nowhere, yet in the middle of everything. Our own little hole in the world, secluded and cut off. -They are not allowed here.

The moon is reflected on the water's surface. It's form distorted and stretched across the now-black lake. Everything is so still. Everything is so quiet, that each breath serves as conversation enough. The woods are listening intently. Too interested to rustle or sway in the slight breeze. The occasional cricket chirps, as if our own little violinist carrying each note with the utmost vibrato. And with this serenity all around, and with this blanket wrapped tight, I drift to sleep.

Tonight I am dreaming. Tonight I am anyone, anywhere. I am lying in a field of clover with the sun on my face. I am sitting in a lonely Waffle House, hands folded around a warm cup of coffee. I am standing in that grocery store, watching her sift through mangos, listening to her spit out philosophy like today's gossip. Tonight I am hidden in a dimly lit restaurant, feeling so safe with the soft humming of people talking. Hearing the reassuring laugh of a man in the distance.

Tonight I am lying with my head out the window of a car, one arm outstretched, feeling the wind rush through my fingers. I am sitting on the curb of a dusty gas station, not a clue as to where I am or where I'm going. I am hopping in the bed of a pickup truck and shaking hands with Ben, Kate, and Stitch. All of who came to be here the same as me. Tonight I am sailing to India. Tonight I am meeting people. Tonight I am hearing stories. Tonight I am dreaming.

Tonight there is no way I am coming down from this cloud...