His Unreplied Mails : A Cradle For The Distressed

Fourteen

To jane,

I dreamt of you last night. You wore the same printed shirt and tattered jeans from yesterday. It was quite random and unforeseen. Like a play with a replaced actor; an antagonist with a round sophisticated role. In my dream, you were silent. Sitting on a park bench, while looking at the sky. What were you thinking Jane? I was curious but the moment that I walked towards you, a knock on the door woke me up. I want to see you again, maybe a few chapters of my dream or was that only one of my mere hallucinations?

From Maurice