Dream Eater

God, I hate that alarm. Even though it’s kind of like going to sleep, or being in a coma. I just become part of the routine. Seven to five. But I don’t work anymore. Just compare smiles. Don’t worry, none come close. This morning I couldn’t explain to them what happened, or really what is happening. So I stopped trying. I gave up on words. We don’t need them anymore. I can’t wait to go back. Day dreaming of the soft sand that sticks to our feet, and the brave vessels that sail on the horizon. We went last time, remember?

I compared eyes today. None of them caught the light and shone like the stars. Today, we should go on a picnic. Or have we done that already? It was such a glorious day. The sun was turning in and the tide massaged our feet. A storm had been stalking you and me all week, but  it wouldn’t ruin the time we had together before I had to return to the routine. Not even God would interrupt us. I look for the stars, and I find them looking back at me, with a kiss. I reach for your hand and tell you that my hand was cold, or something else completely un-smooth. I don’t quite remember. But it’s what you like about me, I think. Lightning struck.

That consistent beeping drives me up a wall. I guess it must be me, because no one else seems to notice it. They just tell me that they are doing all they can. It’s a nice gesture. They told me that when the hurricane hit the beach. If I remember that was the first night I woke up in a ball. But you don’t know that. Something about the picnic didn’t sit well with my stomach. It’s like I have to have my food forced fed to me through an IV, because the constant churning and dropping of my gut makes me question whether my body can even function anymore. I’m sure everything will be better when I see you. It always is.

You decided to run across the beach, in that sporadic way of yours, and let the rising tide strike your legs. I watched you like I would a car wreck in slow motion. The tide must not have seen you because if it did it would have stopped in its tracks to watch you glide across the beach, laughing all the way. But the tide wasn’t the only one who didn’t pay attention. The men on boats told me they did all they could. It will make me feel better to see you.

And then the alarm stopped, and it was dead silent. I suddenly miss it, like my own heartbeat. Even my mouth, agape, couldn’t make a sound. I can feel the rain again streaming down my face, like that night months ago.  I can hear the alarm again,  but it soon flatlines and as it too was fading.  The doctors, they did all they could. I see the stars up above, looking back at me. With a kiss.