When I sleepwalk I am not alone. Though I'm never sure if it's a true dream or not, there is always someone by my side who stays with me until my feet pass the threshold to my room and they dissipate like the grey smoke from my grandmother's old tobacco pipe.
They aren't human, the person who sleepwalks with me. Their arms brush the ground while their head barely brushed the tops of lampposts and they don't seem to have any legs. Still, they don't harm me and I can't harm them so we walk together instead.
I like to think of them as my guardian when I'm otherwise unaware and unable to stop myself from heading out of the safety of my home and into the sparsely-lit streets for untold hours on end. I like to think that when we separate at my bedroom door, they too are returning to the comfort of their own bed.
In all my years of walking with them, not once have we spoken nor have they so much as hinted that they even have a mouth to speak from. I like their silence and I wonder if they like my drowsy mumblings. I wonder if they can even hear me - I've never been able to look upwards much when I sleepwalk.
Perhaps I'll learn to lucid dream and introduce myself to my walking companion.
Perhaps they're trying to do the same.
Until then, we'll walk in the quiet dark and dream together.
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