We’re walking towards that place I keep dreaming about. Every other night now for the past two weeks, it keeps inexplicably appearing just before I’m about to wake up. It’s a row of buildings in a part of town that’s off the beaten track. Half the buildings are boarded up, while the remaining ones consist of a mixture of greasy spoons, discount stores, and someplace that appears to be selling the shittest bric-a-brac you could imagine. You want me to kiss you, but I don’t want to because if I do, it’ll mean I’m just a man, and therefore, weak. Turning my head, you huff and puff and try removing your hand from mine, no doubt in some attempt to storm off or attack me, but I grip it tightly while staring at this row of unassuming low-rise buildings. Why do I keep dreaming of them? To the best of…