In the time between night and morning. In the delirium of the border country between awakening and near post sleep, a kiss dreamed can feel real.  “The whipped up, ephemeral body feels solid enough to elicit a reaction in those in-between hours.” He said with an excited tone.  Sugary sweet it must be. The mind sees. The neck cranes. The lips reach to embrace.

As the eyes open more, to let in a little more light, the mind becomes more aware – much more aware of the silly situation it has placed the whole in. The embarrassment pricks the ego, with the poignant loss of that ethereal moment stinging ever more so.

“If life is but a dream, better you dream than the awakening.”

“What did you just say, Doctor Jones?” He asked.

She shook her head before adjusting her glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of her nose. “It was nothing. Just a quote from a movie. So tell me how long have you been having this dream?”

“For several months,” He replied. “It’s just that it feels more like a memory… Like I’ve been there before.”

He laid his head back onto the padded cushion of the sofa and stared at the pattern winding its way across the ceiling. “Like…I’ve…”  He paused.

In the twilight shadows, he caught the movement of a dandelion Afro in side profile. He cupped his hands into the shape of a funnel, distilling creativity through pursed lips. This thought outran the other stars streaming toward her waiting ear.  “I exhaled the seed of a thought from an overripe dandelion, that floated against silhouetted navy clouds on its way to her.” He said while continuing to stare straight up hypnotically following the course of the the pattern on the ceiling.

Having received and decoded the message, the idea snapped and crackled as it navigated the dendrites and lit up the neurons. Her expression said it all. “She had a smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eye that said she understood.” The mind sees. The arm extends. The hand reaches to caress.

Turning his head to the side to address the doctor directly.  “So Doctor Jones, I recognized, I’d been fooled again. Shame on me.”  He shook his head.  “The point is, the ghost doesn’t have a body. None of this is really happening and I’m in-between again. Traveling the same dream again.”

“Do you understand what my dream means, Doctor Jones?”  He asked.

“Doctor? What doctor? You’re dreaming again,” his wife said, with a tired and slightly annoyed tone.  “Go back to sleep,” she said, while pulling the covers further onto her side of the bed.

by malakhai jonezs
(c) Copyright 2016