Where were you last night when I jumped out of a sound sleep? Something was haunting me and I’m not sure that it was just a dream. I felt around for you, with my breathing still short and the cold sweat still clinging onto me. You weren’t there. I’d forgotten you haven’t been there for some time now.
I then got out of bed and made myself some tea and went to sit down in front of the television, but for some reason I never turned it on. I simply sat there holding my warm tea listening to the sounds of the night but not hearing anything. My mind was spinning, twisting, turning, reeling around old memories of you, of us. Memories that frighten me more than comfort me, a past that was happier than anything I can foresee in the future. That scared me, the idea that I’ve already had the happiest days of my life. I don’t like to remember those days.
With my tea gone I placed the cup in the sink and walk back to my bed. It was time to try again to sleep, perhaps this time I would fully sleep. I hoped for no dreams, like I do even night. I made a nest out of my many pillows; they’re so close that there is barely room for me in between them. This is a habit I have attached myself to in the past years, subconsciously done from the fact that I don’t like to be alone. I pulled my home made quilt up to just below my face and closed my eyes. It was time to rest even though I knew that I’d be haunted the very moment I drifted off to sleep by the lovely dreams of yesterday, and a shadow that is tomorrow.
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