sounds, weather, places, dreams

Awake to waves. Where am I?

In bed. Cars. Swishing. Not waves.

Time. What day is it?

April 15.

My trip is in two weeks.

I haven’t gone yet, despite my dream.

The second dream I’ve had about the trip.

Last night I was there, on my trip. Counting days.

Five nights left, I thought. More time. Please. More time.

The other dream, I can’t quite remember, except the sadness of thinking the trip was over. Too fast. Please. More time.

And now I have brewed coffee and am sitting on the couch. Awake, mostly.

A siren. Filaments of rain outside the window. Sip. Warmth. I think, these things all have their own time: sounds, weather, places, dreams.

This morning. Mourning. More.

Please. More time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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