Cock-Adoodle-Doo.

"Buenas dias." He says.

"Good morning." I blink groggily up to him.

I feel you. I see you. I taste you. Through the hollow stillness I reach out my hand and gently press my fingers against yours. Elysium greets us with the old familiar smell of swirling white asphodel. The wind tickles the trees and scatters the playful leaves. I open my eyes and look down at my arms. In this waking dream the skin is smooth, no scars.

In this waking dream there are no scars. For now, no more blue tomorrows.