I'm asleep. The pillow is hot, the dog is hot, my comforter is hot and my body pillow is on the floor next to my bed. It's three oh six, too early to reasonably get up. My breath is heavy, curling over my lips in rolls of viscous sleepiness. It's too early to get up, to hard to go back to sleep. I've been dreaming. I've had the same dream every night for the last few weeks. I'm inside a tiny house, a cottage or hut, with a thatched roof and white washed wattle and daub walls. There are a few windows that open outward into a garden full of beautiful green plants, and the sun falls through leaves of aspens that aren't there, and yet are. I'm with another person, but I don't know who, and I have to get out.
All of a sudden it is dark, full night, without ever having a dusk to make it dark. Outside the window of the happy little cottage there is a dog, standing, grey and shaggy, almost cartoonish in it's appearance. There is no fear in the dog, but around the dog, and I sweat, terrified. I run around the inside of the house, opening all the windows, closing them again when I see it. I am aware that I am dreaming, but I cannot get out, I cannot wake up.
And then Moritz is licking my arm, long slow licks, hot and sticky, as if someone is pulling a magnetically attracted piece of lukewarm ham along my arm. I shudder and wake up.
I like how you wrote about being awake at night, it is an interesting idea.
ReplyDeleteI like your description of your dog licking your arm and how you compared it to a piece of lukewarm ham.
ReplyDeletethat's really cool. I liked how you described your dream
ReplyDeleteThe subject matter of your slice is really interesting.
ReplyDeleteDreams are so weird. You described your very well as well as talking about the frustration of being up in the middle of the night after a dream. The "lukewarm ham" line is wonderfully hilarious.
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