Haunt

You know when you have one of those dreams, that just feels so real, that hangs around you the rest of the day? It's like an aura, and my eyes take on that deep, haunted, far-away look, and my chest sinks in when I breathe, and I can close my eyes and feel that person I dreamt about. I am enveloped. Wanted.

This isn't helping.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet,

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

W.B. Yeats