Zebra

We were lying in bed this morning, just a couple of hours ago, and he was staring into my eyes and stroking my cheek, an amused smile tickling the flesh of his lips as if invisible secrets were trying to escape. He said I make faces when I’m sleeping, grotesque ones that you might imagine on a horror mask, like someone who has been stabbed or is about to throw up. We laughed and I told him about my nightmares. I told him what I could. It was a nice moment. He listened and nodded. He said he never remembered what was going on in his head during sleep. I said it could be a blessing.

I decided to be late for work so I could stay beside him a while longer. My hands were still shaking a little. I’ll be quitting soon anyway. I’d like to look for something closer to him. You never truly know until you know, but I have the feeling this will evolve into something long-lasting, maybe permanent. He could be the one. How many of these have there been now? I’m aware that I’m falling in love, but I’m still entirely rational. I still give him his space, I’m not clingy or demanding. I’ve got my own things going on, my own big, complex, enviable life. He loves that about me, he’s told me. I’ve just got to keep it afloat, same as I always have. Easy.

The nightmare was bad last night. It makes sense that it twisted me up a bit. I don’t always know, because I don’t always have someone to report it to me. The way my body reacts while the mind is having its night out. Unfortunate he’s such a light sleeper. I’d rather not have known. He was so understanding, though.

There was a zebra, and of course I looked up Freud’s interpretation of the totem when I got home. Supposedly it indicates some worry about the relationship. It’s not really important. And anyway, the zebra didn’t stay black and white. It turned black as a gust of wind blew by, sending all this white powder flying off, and then the wind blew the other way, and the zebra was all white. Then the ground shook, and I was walking towards it, with my hand outstretched. All of its skin started pulsing, like something from within was about to leap out, to explode.

Then it turned its head to look me in the eyes, as though it had just noticed me, even though I was only a few feet away. Its skin turned inside out, and suddenly the zebra was red, dripping with blood. It reared up to attack me, and I screamed, but there was nothing I could do. I just stood back from myself and watched as I shrunk and it grew, and it stomped on me until we were both all blood and muscle and bone on the outside. I stood aside, watching myself, my body, die.

I wake up and he is smiling at me.

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