Dreams

Woke too soon and left a dream with hands that supported me in the warm air, somewhere high above everything, my own hands cupping something fragile and only half guessed at – a blackbird’s egg or a tiny baby no bigger than a thumb, like the rabbit foetus I found once, silvery grey with sealed eyes and the veins mapping its surface in some sort of strange blueprint. I can’t remember much about the dream except that I knew I was precious and that the hands cared about me as I cared about the creature I was holding. I've always believed that each dream has a meaning but I couldn't figure out what this one meant and I must have fallen asleep again because when I woke for the second time it was light and the alarm hadn’t gone off and she’d left for work. I felt so tired, as if I was jet-lagged – not that I know what that’s like as I’ve only ever been to Spain but I can imagine it. I crawled out of bed to get ready for college but began to shake and barely made it to the loo to be sick. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I can’t be pregnant – don’t ask how I know, I just do that’s all. I don’t drink so it wasn’t that either. I’ve been sleeping nearly all day and my skin is red and sore at the knees and hips where my bones rested on the mattress. I’m not too thin though – not as thin as Danny, but then he’s tall and that makes him look thinner than he is. If I feel better tomorrow I’ll go and see him again – get the train fare somehow. I mustn’t let his apathy and silence push me away – he needs someone and I’m all he’s got.

It’s after nine and she’s not back yet. I try not to think of what she’s doing or who she’s with. I know she’s old enough to look after herself but there are weirdos out there and she always seems to find them. Maybe she’ll bring some food back, but I’m not hungry and anyway it would only make me sick again.