I don’t sleep much, he told her. Dreams wake me up, he sat on the side of the bed. I close my eyes with good intentions, and then the movies start, he lit a cigarette.

What kind of movies? she asked.

All kinds. Different kinds. But, they’re all the same theme, he told her. She sat up in bed and lit a cigarette herself. They sat in the dark. Talking.

Sometimes they’re black and white. Other times in color. Vivid colors. Like a Disney movie, they laughed. In all these dreams, there’s a sense of being unprepared. Like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m on stage and I don’t know my lines, he blew out blue smoke into the black. It scares me. And then I realize. It’s only a dream, she placed her hand on his arm.

That’s what you dream about?

Yeah. Every night. Not knowing what to say or where to go. Lost. A sense of being lost. Always lost.

And these thoughts, dreams, wake you up?

Yeah. And my pillow is soaked like I’ve been running, he crushed his butt. Some kind of race. Running from something or to something. But, never ready. Never prepared.

She looked over at the clock. The red numerals read 3:00. Do you want some coffee?

No thanks. I’m going to go sleep on the couch till morning. You try and get some sleep.

OK. You gonna be alright?

Yeah. I’ll sleep eventually.



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