2005-08-13 - 2:21 p.m.
It was so hot last night.
I lay in bed feeling sick and oppressed and depressed, crying silently into my pillow while you peacefully fell asleep.
Did you notice that I kept getting up and leaving the room? I wasn't doing it to make you follow me, just like I wasn't crying to get you to talk to me. I kept going to the bathroom because I had to pee. And then, I would splash cold water on my face, on my neck, all over my shoulders and arms, and drink big gulps of water from the cup of my hands.
One of the times I went out on the roof and lay down on the bench. I looked at the city and they sky and thought about how there was a meteor shower going on up there, but that I couldn't see a single star because of pollution. I thought maybe if I could cool off I would be able to feel sleepy and forget about the sad and distressing thoughts that were keeping me awake. I wanted to creep back into the dark of your room and fall asleep next to you, but it was too hot.
Every time I came back into the room, so little time had passed. The clock was just inching along and it seems like it took forever for it to get from 1:18 to 1:24 then to 1:30 and on to 1:37, then 1:40, etc. etc.
When I stopped watching the clock, I just watched you. There was only the tiniest amount of light coming into the room, enough that I could see the shadows and planes of your face and imagine the rest. Your smooth white skin. You looked like you were made out of marble, a relic from the Empire of Rome, with your Caesar curls framing your face and that white sheet draped around you like a toga. You were a statue. I felt so far away from you, because you had managed to escape into the world of sleep and I was trapped in the purgatory of insomnia, heat, and cyclical thoughts.
So I started to talk to you. Just whispering in your ear, and I am sure the sound of the fans drowned it out, but I told you everything I'd been unable to tell you before. I told you my fears and my doubts and I asked you out loud the questions that silently replay in my head over and over. And you slept on.
I think I talked for a good long time, because when I stopped it was 3:30. I ended by saying, "And now this will have all seeped into your brain and in the morning you will be amazed by the new understanding of me you have." And I swear your eyes flashed open for a brief, terrifying moment. But then you rolled over onto your side and I could no longer see your face.
And I was so tired and hot and so sorry for being awake and feeling so far away from you, us both being in such a little room, such a little space. And so I reached out and just put my hand on your shoulder. And somehow I could feel your skin slowly, slowly recognize my touch. And you turned to me, still asleep (or still mostly asleep), and pulled me close to you. And I don't know how long that lasted, but I woke up this morning to you handing me an ice cold bottle of water as you left to go to work...so somehow three or four hours of sleep got had.
I cuddled up to the icy bottle as if the cold would spread throughout my body, but then my brain recognized that you hadn't given it to me for that, but to drink. So I greedily sucked down the water and then dropped off back asleep.
When you come home from work, what will you remember from last night? Could you feel my restlessness and unhappiness in your sleep? Did you dream of my voice in your ear? Did I seep into your unconscious? Or were you dreaming of ancient Rome? of lost empires? of nothing?
