I am going to dream about a shooting star.
A shooting star that is always so bright. A shooting star that is so far, yet so very and dearly close that I can even see its light shining down on me, and feel its warmth in my heart.
This shooting star is always there even when I cannot see it. Brings me happiness when it appears, even for a tiny moment, and leaves me with the wish of seeing it again.
I am going to dream about that shooting star, that comes from places I do not know, places to which I do not belong, and sometimes I am fearful to explore, and it follows an undefined destination out there in the sky, to which only the stars belong.
That shooting star brightens the darkest nights, the toughest days, even the regular days. MY shooting star that only I see, only I feel, but I can never have.
Sometimes I do not see it, and I wonder where it is hiding. And then, it is just there right in front of me, so close, but yet again so far, so unreachable.
One day I dreamed I actually had it, it was so real that I naively believed it. And then I was told by my star, loud and clear, that it was all just an illusion, and right then, with much pain, I realized the truth: There are no bridges from here to the stars.