My Dream

Three days after surgery,I lie on my back, deep rhythmic throbbing of bruising in my chest and slight pains of discomfort from my groin. Tubes runfrom various points in my body carrying deep red blood to drainage bottles while a catheter extends from a pile of bandages around my groin to a bag at the side of my bed. Lifting myself to sit up the slightest amount is an effort and the pain of rolling to one side is not worth any minor perceived increase in comfort. So I try to pass the time, shifting my weight in the little ways possible to gain a slight grasp of some sleep. Any sleep is fleeting, lasting thirty minutes to an hour at the most, even during the long nights when I wait for the next day to arrive. Such short grasps are too short for dreams and reserved for mere sensations. My muscles twitch in defense to some unknown fear or I wake myself as I jump to the sensation of falling into a deep abyss.

Today was different.

I was standing outside a shanty looking house in a rough part of town. But the outside camouflaged the luxurious interior of my home with brightly painted white walls and polished steel framed leather designer furniture. It had such a modern feel which perfectly suited my wife who was standing behind a shelf housing a sculpture that I had given to her. We held each other and we kissed and for a brief moment we were still married and I was happy. Just like my sleep, the moment was fleeting.

She left the room and went outside and though I tried to follow, she was gone. Standing in my way was a group of ruffians intending to do me harm. I tried to defend myself and I awoke to my legs kicking wildly at the air and blanket in my bed.

So, now I lay on my back, trying to hold the tears from streaming down my face. I don't know what she is doing or if she is happy or well. I don't know if she knows where I am. All I know is that I still have a love for her and though I tried to follow her, I couldn't.