Insomniac

As I lay here awake - and somewhat angry - I re-visit my dreams (at least what I remember of them), I wander through worlds of mystery, magic, war; All of these all of these worlds, each planet, with their various races, religions, and science, make up a fantastic universe: my mind.
I do not mean that I have an extraordinary consciousness, but I use "fantastic" only to connote the surreality of the universe I wander in my dreams and meditations.
Some mornings, I awake feeling that my reality is more surreal than my mysterious nocturnal universe. Some, I wish my reality were the dream-state. Not because in my dreams I have super powers, or because I am rich and powerful, or because I have the "hottest" trophy wife. My fondest dreams involve a simple life. I am married, I am a father, my children know their grandfather. But more frequently, my dreams consist of the people I love dying, hurting, or turning on me.
Recently though, I fell in love in my alternate dimension. This was not a woman with whom I am familiar in this dimension, as is often the case (the women about whom I dream are most frequently women for whom I have some strong affection, or my mother), but she was rather completely a creation of my own mind. I can't remember most of the dream, but I most distinctly remember the final moments. I awoke wishing, more than I can ever remember, that I was still asleep. With my realization that I was only dreaming, that she was only a figment of my imagination, came an incredible, indescribable, emptiness. This sensation only became more significant as I also realized that there was no hope of seeing her again in my other reality, because I never awake in the same reality twice.
Except this morning. I was dreaming that my dad had taken me to a church that secretly served the world's best latté. It took us hours to navigate this labyrinth of modern liturgy before we finally came to the bar hidden deep in the lowered levels of the church. As I put the cup to my lips, I could smell the wonderful, sweet aroma of the espresso and what I only imagined was raw steamed milk and awoke with a start to see that it was still dark outside my window and it was slightly more than an hour before I was to awake. I rolled back into my blankets angrily and dozed back into the same dimension. But I found myself sitting in the sanctuary talking to a dear friend. I asked her about the supreme latté but she smiled ignorantly and walked away. As the worship service began, I realized that this church allowed dogs in the worship.
But the anger I felt about the latté when I awoke with the its fragrance still in my nostrils could not begin to compare with sorrow I felt when I awoke without her in my arms.
My abrupt extraction from her world came a single breath before I was able to confess my love to her. I still feel as though somewhere, in another reality, there is a woman who needs to hear those words. Not from anyone. From me.
As I lay there completely still with a tear in my eye, I announced into the darkness "I love you" hoping that somewhere, somewhen, she might hear me.

And I have yet to taste the sacred latté.