a dream from which we cannot wake

Jude

In my head I am hunting for myself
but I come up empty again

Jude isn't expecting such vehemence from her, and he can only sit stunned and admittedly rather in awe as she shares a rather vulnerable piece of her story with him to better show him how wrong he is. Ever the attentive listener, Jude tucks his long legs in as gracefully as he can to sit more comfortably, expression soft and understanding. He wants to reach for her, but they're still tentative friends at best, so instead he knocks his ankle against hers and leaves it there in silent connection.

"Even if you don't sing it, maybe you can find the song for me? I'd sing it for you," he offers shyly, because surely there must be some way he can pay her back for everything she has done for him tonight. Even just this - her passion, her insistent sincerity - is enough to warrant a debt to be paid. "If it wouldn't hurt to hear it again that is." Jude has always liked listening to live music, but nothing was ever as moving as his dad's quiet voice in the kitchen or on the back porch, accompanied by the slow strumming of a guitar. Jude would sit out of sight behind the doorframe and simply listen, even though he knew his dad was happy to sing both to and with him. Something about listening in and hearing how his dad sang when he thought he was alone was more meaningful. With that in mind, maybe Noe was right about the power of song. "But you'll have to be my first and only fan for a while. It'll take a while to win people over," he points out with a quiet laugh, similarly trying to lift the mood back up.

the night is a cavern
I am underneath it, inside it, anything but free of it