Some Kind of Dream

I drempt of a friend. She was happy and shaky like she always was. Speed does that to a person. But she was witherd and tired like an old woman. I'm older than her. It made me sad? Worried? who knows.

She was doing dishes in the house that belonged to a friend. of course she was there, those two won't ever be seperated except by the stupid things in life which seperate those who otherwise would not be.

She has a daughter. I don't know when she was born. Or what her name is. Feeling slightly embarrased, I asked what her name is.

"Liz" she said.

I was suprised.

"her Grandfather chose it" She said

I thought it was weird. She had always said she wanted to name her daughter Daisy, if she had one.

I felt a sad dissapointment.

When you have a dream or goal or thought for so long, how can you let it go?

"That's nice" I said

"It's a good name." she replied.

She looked so tired.

I miss my friend. not this tired person with broken dreams, but my friend. The one who loved Pink Floyd and Dead Kennedys, the one who would be a computer programmer, the one who never judged me. and I never judged her. My oldest friend. Where have you gone?

What is it about the world that makes certain people run and hide from it? Who has done this to our world that makes it unbearable to some?