hot cocoa
I have been woken up by the most unsettling dreams in the middle of the night - every night since last week. In one, you wrote me a letter from Japan. In another, I met you in a theatre amongst the audience. I asked if we could find time to catch up with each other; you told me that I knew you hadn't the time, before shoving me out of my dream.
Dreaming about you unsettles me. Imagine walking into a torrential rainstorm, immersing yourself in rain so heavy you could swear you were swimming in it. With nothing but the heavy embrace of your drenched shirt to keep you company - cold comfort. No shelter.
If it turns out to be a good dream, a stranger turns up with a flask of cocoa for me, and leaves.
If it turns out be a bad dream, nobody turns up at all. And there is no cocoa.
What a bizarre analogy. With the sort of sleep I'm getting, it will have to do for now. And for the moment, it feels somehow right.
I am not picking at my scab. But it isn't healing properly at all.
Dreaming about you unsettles me. Imagine walking into a torrential rainstorm, immersing yourself in rain so heavy you could swear you were swimming in it. With nothing but the heavy embrace of your drenched shirt to keep you company - cold comfort. No shelter.
If it turns out to be a good dream, a stranger turns up with a flask of cocoa for me, and leaves.
If it turns out be a bad dream, nobody turns up at all. And there is no cocoa.
What a bizarre analogy. With the sort of sleep I'm getting, it will have to do for now. And for the moment, it feels somehow right.
I am not picking at my scab. But it isn't healing properly at all.
Labels: life
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