I had a terrible dream last night. Or, rather, this afternoon.

It wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a night terror.

My teeth didn't fall out or rot away. I haven't had one of those dreams in a long time.

I wasn't being chased by a formless black shape, or an iconic slasher movie villain.

This dream was real. Too real.

I was in a backyard. It was a beautiful summer day. She was there. We were talking. Actually, she was talking, and I was struggling to find my defenses. Everything I tried to say was wrong, and everything she said cut right to my bones. I felt wrong. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Hypocritical. Full of shit and exposed.

People from my past were there. Old friends. In the waking world, I haven't seen them in a very long time, the longest in the time that we've known each other. Which is a very long time. I was saddened by what I saw. Bloated faces, rosy cheeks, once-spindly forms pushing maximum density. I was friendly, but I was met with indifference. I was expecting resentment. Anger. Hostility. Saddened wonderment. Anything to let me know that I was missed and still wanted.

No.

I was met with cold, emotionless stares and disdainful rejection.

They knew I walked away. Didn't care for my reasons. Didn't care for me anymore, just as I haven't cared for them.

Someone was conspicuous by absence. The appearance of this person was imminent. I was afraid. I had no friends in this place, and all of my reasons had already been reduced to bullet-ridden strawman ineptitude.

I followed her somewhere, from a distance. Then I awoke.

The events of this past summer have led to a decision. For the last few years, I've had an internal conflict about friendship. I've been trying to make sense of my past, where I came from, and the people I surrounded myself with. We were once so close-knit. Brothers from different mothers. Telepathic. Pieces of cloth stitched back together. I once had notions of us lasting forever. There would be kids running around, calling us uncles even though our family trees grew in different forests.

Time is a fickle bitch. With time came stagnation, self-doubt, backstabbing. Rampant egotism. Alcoholism. Iniquity. Dishonesty. Regression. We were all guilty in some way.

I couldn't turn my eyes from the truth once its debilitating and relentless light shone upon us. I came to hate what we had become.

I moved away. Found new friends. They opened up my world. They enabled me to become a better person, instead of resent the fact that I had changed.

Still, with this newfound camraderie and a life on the upswing, the past came back to haunt me. Drama. Bad news. Backbiting words that could only be said to my face under the influence.

I was no better. I succumbed to my base desires on more than one occasion, out of spite and out of desperation. Out of a desire to burn down the pedestal.

Something happened this summer, and I am left feeling betrayed. Lied to. Jealous. Fucked up.

It came from the one person I never thought it would.

I resolved that this is the last time. And it is. My lesson has been learned, though it took far too many instances such as this to sink in.

But along with this lesson came the thought that maybe it's time to walk away. Completely. Maybe not for forever, but for a long time. I have forgotten what it is like to live without them. Maybe time, fickle bitch that she is, can heal the wounds and let us grow together again.

Or maybe it really is over, and a small part of me is hanging on by its fingernails.

They're not good to me. I'm not good to them. We've got a lot of inside jokes, stories, and memories...and a lot of resentment, anger, and distrust.

I was completely sold on this thought. My bags were packed and my ticket was punched.

This dream has me questioning everything all over again.

I can't decide if I'm right or if I'm fucked up and more wrong than I've ever been. I also just might be pretty goddamn scared of what they have to say.

In instances such as this, I always hear a voice in my mind. This voice tells me what I need to do. It is always right, and every time I fail to listen to it, I end up getting burned.

The voice is distorted now. Too much confusion. Too much noise.

I have a feeling the answer will be revealed when I achieve clarity.

Whatever the result may be...

...I know I'll see them again.

It's never over.