Only two of us were in the bed. So I knew it could not be her standing over us, reaching down and grabbing our shoulders in repeated attempts to throw us out the door and into the neighbor’s back yard.
I woke up, startled and chest pounding. THish was one of a series of dark and drastic dreams that piled on to my psyche after eating a high-carb pizza pie too late before going to bed. She was not alarmed. It was not her dreams. She ate spaghetti for dinner. But my startlement was a little contagious, and she commented on how I secured her to me, a move she interpreted as chivalrous. For that I got a kiss.
We had never slept together before. It was not a big deal. She is the first woman I’d been with since whenever the Staten Island thing did its rapid disintegration. Was that in March? I don’t know what time is.
It is a long story how we met, but it involved a telephone line. Not one of mine. She is slender and lithe. I don’t know her age but would guess mid-40s. WIll she be back? I don’t know.
The night was filled with dark and dirty dreams from which I woke up frequently. Honestly, her presence might have contributed to the nocturnal unease, on top of the dangerously jacked-up pizza. She felt natural and comfortable, or so she said. Our sex was beautiful, and filled with smiles that melted into seriousness. The seriousness of fucking. I did not expect her to stay the night but it was fine. She was gone before I woke, leaving the front door closed tight but not locked for probably a period of less than an hour. She works in the Bronx and said she got to work right on time… wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Another dream involved my mother and a man she was dating. He turned out to be no good. A grifter, liar, and self-saboteuer. Driving in a car, intending to go to a party or a parade or something benign, we instead we were driven into a garage where we were expected to hide out from authorities and “associates” this person said were coming after him. We could all claim ignorance and get away scot-free, but why did he insist we stay with him, like hostages?
I got out. The garage was in a fact a bar I used to go to, where I was in the after hours club of trusted bar flies permitted to drink past 4am, when all bars in New York are required to close. I’d sit at that bar until 10am on some occasions, not drinking excessively since the beers were free.
That bar was real, but nothing of its presence in this dream had any connection to reality.
Many other dreams caused me to wake up, and place my arm across her bare back. I don’t know if we will meet like this again but it was a sweet, harmless encounter.
