Most nights, she just has the dog, softly snoring on the pillow beside her, and she wonders where her normal companion is in the dream. But only a little, she’s too content to worry much. The dreamlike state has her on a certain plane, a frame of mind where not much else is going on. The body beside her shifts again, reaching out for her, curling a forearm under her breasts—she smiles. Tucks her chin down and touches her lips to warm flesh, a chaste kiss. The room is warm—the slight breeze of the fan wafts over her, over them, only a little, only occasionally. She doesn’t know where she is, but she must be home. This must be her bed. She wouldn’t feel so safe otherwise.
She doesn’t know what to do with this, how to make it last—she tries to sleep. To sleep in her dream, in order to dream again, and idly wonders if you sleep in a dream, do you dream twice? Or thrice?
She closes her eyes and drifts, trying to relax her mind, to keep from being ultra aware of the movements behind her. It’s difficult because he jerks back and forth. Rolling away and then back into her as though he’s swimming or drowning. She is a life preserver, his lifeboat in a raging sea. He clings. Normally she hates that, remembering when she felt smothered, confined in the embrace of another. Not this time. This time, in the dream, she is comforted by the surrounding body. The feeling not confining but secure, the hold not too tight— just firm enough to be solid.
“Are you okay?” The rough whisper comes just past her ear.
“Yes,” she says and smiles again. She tries to sleep again. It does not work. She doesn’t mind, not really, because if she slept she would miss this, and she knows somehow, somewhere, she knows, she is already asleep so she doesn’t worry about not sleeping. She squirms again and is rewarded with a clutch back against him, another soft breath upon her ear. She drifts. If only she could wake up. Then all this would be real. LS