I head back towards the staircase after taking my Flintstone vitamin at the usual god-awful early hour to see the front door open, allowing artificial copper light to barge its way in without remorse. I turn around to see a familiar frame sipping something in the kitchen.
Wearing a red and white robe and a crescent smirk, you put down the mug and charge me gleefully. I laugh too, as if we are brothers clashing in recreational dominance. But as your fury freckles my face and I pound three dents in your chest, glee is canceled. I land a left leg-kick to your neck at 11:30 just as my alarm tolls its bell at 5:30.
Diametrically opposed. Justus scale out of whack. Lovinghating to see you. I turn off my alarm and sit on my bed as my heart begins to hammer the floorboards of my ribs.
I initially read that as "furry freckles," which was a strange phrase, I thought.
ReplyDeleteSo, this is an interesting mashup of dream types. You have the psychological, the action, and the "I have to wake up AGAIN?!" all in one go.