Gregorian Monks and Ghost Jesus
11:47 p.m. that Saturday night. Subconcious fear tore my peaceful slumber, but my own cries woke me to the London room, warm and quiet to the outside, like a cacoon. A cacoon with a partner. B- reaches over and pulls me into his embrace. "Baby, you ok?" His voice has that soft edge of morning night, when you will return to the land that holds comfort or demons.
11:49 p.m. two minutes later. "I had a bad dream. I dreamt you came back to the states unexpectedly and packed your bags. No warning. You just showed up on a Satuday and told me you were taking your memories. Your photos and notebooks. Told me you were selling our condo...your condo. I said, 'What about me? What about us?' You looked at me with apathy. 'What about us?' you said."
11:51 p.m. just before his light snoring begins...