I dreamt we were somewhere, I don’t know where, just far away from anywhere, on a soft-grassed singular hill amidst plains, rolling amongst forests and streams to distant mountains puncturing the crystal ocean of the sky at horizon. We sat on a thick blanket, with a picnic basket and no cares. A breeze ran along the carpeted grassfields and the sky blinked, washing the sparsely clouded above to a clutter of delicate stars in but an instant, hanging, two centimeters between stolen glances and the whispered fractions of my slowing heartbeat. I shuffled my lips to make words, but it was silent. Everything was silent, save for the distant murmur of twinkling lights, like drops of still water on the endless shoreline of morning, just waiting to fall once more.