Wide Awake and Dreaming

Wide Awake
The last few nights, the moment my head hits the pillow, my brain wakes up. I can suddenly feel the contour of the pillow in minute detail under my head. Eyes open against the darkness, I imagine my pupils dilating to great black discs pressing away the hazy brown to a slim, neat circle. I blink. Feel my lashes against my cheek. Blink harder. Contemplate the length of my eyelashes. Be still. Try not to look at the clock. Think about warmth and quiet and drifting instead of cold rigid silence above the seismic hum of my mind.

Dreaming
Reoccuring now, this dream that I am in my apartment on Grace Street. Sometimes, it is the apartment at Abbott's Run. There is confusion. Am I supposed to be there? I walk through the room. These things are mine - this chair, this clay pot, this painting on the wall. But everything is not here. Some of my things are missing. Where are they? And then I remember that I don't live here...but I still feel...like I could...or I do. I'm not sure whether to pack or unpack. Stay or go. As the confusion reaches a fever pitch, I seem to recognize that I am dreaming and slowly lift toward wakefulness...eyes open, pupils bleeding across the brown.