Sep 04, 2003 01:41
Hands round my neck, blood on my lips. The hands are his the blood my own. Waking up with my hands in tight fists cradled against my abdomen. I can still feel the dream tingling faintly running tiny fingertips up and down my back. Scowling clenching my jaw to hide my trembling lower lip. Eyes closed tightly, beneath the lids the color changes from a burnt orange brown green and blue hues swirling like oil puddles on cement. He was strangling me.
I see a dimly lit room. Lips moving. I am deaf and watching myself. I can't read lips and they are my own, but I'm not really there. What kind of dream is this? I see the man across from me, watch our lips move. I laugh, cross one leg over the other leaning foward.The two of us drink our warm herbal tea from cardboard cups. I hit my head on the cushioned backboard of my bed.
So, she says, you're afraid of the dark? She grins, and you didn't think I could interpret dreams.
I close my eyes and try not to imagine my fingers wrapped around her wrists leading her out the door and promptly slamming the it in her face. I hear the rain tapping against the pavement outside the window. I relent and walk across the room reaching for the door with one hand with the other I reach for the light switch flipping it off. I smile in the darkness and close the door behind me.