I don't remember very much from this dream. I knew it was cold. I knew that two worlds were intersecting, that I was standing between two of them.
Someone is calling out to me from across the street—police lights everywhere. Gotta run away. I don't trust any of these people. It's summer, and the streets are painted with the burnt orange of sunset. Purple is rising out of the earth to meet it. Why is this person calling out to me? Is it a warning? Is it a friend or an enemy? I don't trust them. The school is right there, the cops parked out front, lights flashing. Do they want something from me? Always something with me, isn't it? I walk around the plaza and realize there are no side streets. Someone is looking for me and every route forward is exposed. That girl calls out a warning to me again and I wonder if I should heed it.
Something is tight around my neck. My body is a slow dive into the pillow, back into sleep.
She's next to me, like she always has been. A million lifetimes are passing like a movie where sometimes we work out and sometimes we don't. In this lifetime, she doesn't ever want to see me again, but I insist on it. The two of us do this dance in a miniature model of a highrise—fake downtown, fake night, fake street below, a net of rope stretched over the wall in place of a window, with a cut right down the middle. I swing from it into her room and she pushes me away. This isn't right. Why is her name Mary? I must have slept with someone I shouldn't have. What was my sin? Her body is flying around in the wind, her tits are out, the wind is fake. These are two different people, but they're still me and her, so I can't remember where I went wrong. I have to make it better this time. But all I remember is that winter is the time for dreaming.