"Dreams, between 8- 10:30 am, this morning"

sleeping in weird bed

We are pressed for sleep.
There were jokes earlier, laughter, curses.
Now, an urgency to share sleep.
I am conscious that I have just woken myself up and it was probably due to snoring.

You, you are on your back. I can't recall when you took off your shirt. It's a sauna in here. I close my eyes.

You shove me like a grumpy kid brother, we get up and go out for a walk. There's a woman with a large camel suitcase and she's asking for money. We tell her we have none. She pulls you aside, you tell her you want to help, but you're not sure if there's anything you can do.

I open my eyes. I'm spooning you again. You quietly separate yourself, move an inch closer to the wall. You hate feeling emasculated. It's still hot in here. I close my eyes.

I feel you turn my way, I feel an arm slide around me. You are embracing me. I enjoy the warmth of your arm, but then I think... "Wait a minute, is this really his arm, or am I just dreaming that his arm is around me?" I open my eyes. There was no arm after all. Your back is turned to the wall. Your hair is a lot longer. Wait a minute. Who is this guy?

I get up out of bed, walk to the wall to take a peek. It's my ex-boyfriend. He's sleeping peacefully. He smells like he's been outside all day. He's thin, he looks like Jesus, and I want him out of our room.

I hop over to the bathroom, you are sleeping on the cold white floor. You're wearing jeans and a hoodie. I don't recall you taking the afghan. "Hey!" I tap you on the ribs with my foot, "What is Derrick doing here?"

You look up, "Who?"
"Derrick! Derrick Williams. Why is he here?"

You tell me you agreed to help the woman with the suitcase by letting her comrade have a place to sleep for the day. "And... you don't think...maybe you should wake me up and tell me!?" I am all kinds of mad right now.

"Well, it's not like you're naked or anything, so....no." Derrick walks into the bathroom. I want to be kind, understanding. I hold my arms out and we hug. I can see his face in the mirror's reflection. He looks down at you, moves his lips, whispers, "Who is she?"

"Don't you remember your ex-girlfriend?" you ask. He pulls away. He stares at me.  "I don't know this woman at all," he says. He looks genuinely confused.

I open my eyes. I am afraid to see who is next to me. It's you. You don't have the afghan anymore. I close my eyes.

Later, you're still asleep, but I'm sitting at the edge of the bed, reading   Story of the Eye. Eggs and eyeballs. Funny.

I hear a knock and Adrian barges in with her lover, Frankie. "Why don't he like us?" Adrian says angrily. Mark, the neighbor from down the hall walks in, too. They stand over your bed and implore me for answers. You wake up, get up, ignoring them. You stroll into the bathroom without giving them the slightest greeting.

Frankie drops her jaw. Adrian blinks repeatedly. I wonder if she's high right now. "Look, I know this isn't even my apartment, but can't you guys take the hint? If he doesn't answer the door, then it's because he doesn't want to talk to you!" I get up, walk into the bathroom. The door is left open and you're not here at all. I look at the floor and see a lap top. You've been working on a MySpace profile, with a wallpaper that looks like red copper with flecks of a turquoise patina. I thought you hated MySpace.

I open my eyes. You're sleeping peacefully. I close my eyes.

We are separated again, but we meet up at the bus depot. It's 2 am and the buses are red. There's a food truck and a man, handing out bowls of chili. He tops them with sour cream, shredded cheddar, hands me a bowl. I see another bus pull up and you get out. Only it isn't the you that I know. It's the you from your high school prom photos. You're seventeen and you look like a small frightened boy. You see me and you smile. You're twenty-eight again. Another food vendor is standing next to the chili guy. He hands you Taco Bell tacos and you walk over to me. We've been apart for years and now we are back together.

I open my eyes. You are coming out of the bathroom, drinking from a water bottle. Wait, is this another dream?

"Hello," I say.
"Shut up," you snap. Mr Sunshine in the Morning, you ain't.

This isn't a dream. I close my eyes.