Tachyon Dreams

Last night I had that dream again; the one where I'm running impossibly fast.
Last night I was faster than light. I was faster than anything and everything. Running as hard as I could, I discovered my endlessness. I had been running for as long as there had been matter, but somehow my breath was relaxed and steady. The whole time I was very aware of my breathing; I was almost as aware of a heartbeat that was not my own. While unfamiliar, each thud-thud conjured a longing that bordered on need.
My spirit's manifestation was fluid; free and everchanging. An unimportant variable and nothing more. A man, a wolf, the wind, a horse, a cloud of smoke; I hardly noticed my form. Whatever shape I took, however, I was a composition of darkness.
I was the lonely, cold black that sulks behind the shining stars; I was a darkness that light could not touch.
Form was irrelevant and inconstant in that dream; it was pure relief. I want to go back there; on that distant world, only the beautiful parts of me were real.
The grass rushing beneath my shade's feet left trails of kinetic sensation, proving a baffling paradox: I felt the grass' touch linger despite my having out-lapped, and therefore reversed, time to a point before I had brushed the grass. The ghosts of minutes yet to come grew in me like doomed children; I raced further and further into the future. I was too fast to exist within phantom moments already lived in reverse.
Perfect grass stretched out to a crashing and impossibly distant horizon. It was the edge of the world, where I could jump down, down, down to a distant star. I was fixed on that horizon like a homing missile. It was the only destination that guaranteed an unending journey. I wanted to run forever; never growing old or sleeping or thinking. Since nothing could keep pace with me, I was needless. I resolved to run forever, and because I was all I needed, I could never be helpless again.
I couldn't be oppressed, chained, suppressed, muffled, manipulated, or used. Even ancient, proud Gravity and strict, meticulous Time failed to hold me back. I was thoughtless; blissful; perfect; needless.
And then I heard you, gently calling me back to our grey, limited world.
A moment later, all I had left was a memory of a beautiful fantasy.
Maybe I really am faster than light.
Tachyons are beautiful and complete.