10 Dreams I’ve Had About You Within The Last Month


1. We’re in New York sitting in a cramped apartment and I’m mad at all the honking outside. Instinctively, I’m yelling back at them, as if the taxis are going hear my frustration and suddenly practice considerate driving. “WHY WON’T THEY JUST SHUT UP, IT IS SO RUDE!!!” You cup my face with your hands and kiss my forehead. Sweetheart, you sigh. I melt into your fingers. I can’t hear anything anymore.

2. It’s freezing cold on that hill again, our bodies huddling for warmth. The sky looks like it’s been dipped in paint, reds and purples blending together somewhere in the middle. I’m losing circulation in my feet, but I don’t care. I could stay here forever.

3. I’m crying so hard, I can barely breathe. So are you. It’s not romantic or haunting or a testament to how deeply we loved. It’s guttural. There’s glass everywhere but I don’t remember breaking anything.

4. We bump into each other at the deli on Hartz Ave and are forced into an awkward hug. You tell me you’re getting married in a few months. You just put a downpayment on a house. I congratulate you, but it feels mechanic. We’re going through the motions. We’re being pleasant for show. We’re doing what we think we’re supposed to.

5. You tell me you never loved me. I don’t remember anything else.

6. There’s a frozen lake and a pair of ice skates. You hold my hand and never let go. Not even when I’m shaky. Not even when I tell you I think I’m falling down.

7. You scream at me for all the poems. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

8. You touch me like you’ve always touched me. Like no time has passed. I bend and you give and the room spins just enough. The neighbors bang on the wall, our ache is too loud. Our ache is keeping them awake. We laugh, we apologize, we try to turn the volume down. I stuff a pillow in my mouth. Still. We can’t keep it down. It’s just not in us.

9. I’m pregnant and I’m upset that all the weight has gone straight to my face. It’s 99 degrees and every part of my body is sweating. My belly is poking out of my pastel blue maternity shirt. You walk in the door with bags of baby clothes. You’re so excited. I am miserably big, hot, and can’t see my feet anymore. But you are smiling and I’m so in love. I can’t wait to see you as a father. I can’t wait to see what little human being we’ve made.

10. In the middle of the night, you show up at my door with a line straight out of The Notebook. “It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over.” We fold into each other. It’s still not over.