I dreamed all about being wooed and adored, and it felt like being a teenager, though I was never treated that way as a teen. I woke with a feeling maybe I am someone still worth chasing, and keeping once caught - and treating even better once caught. Known. Held. Embraced.
But then, it was just a dream. Those things fade - like the nocturnal sagas of murderous hands seeking you through an abandoned city, or panic nothing dreams of sleeping through your alarm. Dreams are just stories unconscious us tells waking us. Amusements or tortures.
But it was nice to wake and not feel born back into the world another day another unevenly-weighted thing upon it. Not waking sad feels like a challenge won, but it doesn't last long. The ways of the day change the narrative, and mood, and the dream is gone and you're the jiggly human meat man making decisions, worrying and seeking pleasure and relief from pain. Until these things tire you so much, and the hours later, you tumble horizontal, and dream again.