1:43 AM

I woke up from a dream about you last night. I could feel a smile on the lips where you had just been, and was dismayed to realize that it hadn’t been you at all, and merely my imagination – taking advantage of my gullible mind, once again. Everything was as it would have been in life (except that the couch we were sitting on was located in the middle of a frozen pond…). Is it sad that I know you so well that even my dreams of you seem true to life?

It was just… your hand felt so solid, so concrete, so existent in mine. Your breath was gentle and warm on my cheek. Our conversation mirrored exchanges we’ve shared before. You know the kind. When I say, “Isn’t this fun?” and you shrug and say, “I miss video games,” but I can tell you’re really enjoying yourself in spite of whatever you say.

I was saddened, and really rather offended, that you chose to dissolve at precisely the moment I trusted you most. You would never do such a thing in life, now, would you? But I suppose you couldn’t help it, being a figment of my imagination and all. I suppose I couldn’t blame you, having created you in my mind, right?

I was awake for a long time after that.

I got a drink of water. Then I ate something that tasted surprisingly good for 1:43 in the morning. I checked on the cats. Even they slumbered on, mindless of my restless state. It was as though the earth, and time, and everything within had come to a halt beneath the isolating, muffling, time-stopping blanket of snow I could feel weighing on the skylight. The only evidence otherwise was the engines purring inside the cats.

It was like being the only one alive in all the world. Eerie. Lonesome. I wanted to fall back asleep, to come find you again, but toss and turn as I might, 1:43 AM did not take pity on me.

I wondered, would it be so catastrophic if I told you everything? Would that destroy the friendship I already cherish? Would I have to be content with this mirage of you… indefinitely?

Infinitely?

Dreams don’t really come true.

“There you are! I was waiting for you.”

“Waiting? For me? I’m flattered. Sorry for holding you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“All right.” Pause. “Hey, let’s go adventuring! Look, we can cross the tundra! Let’s pretend we’re pirates, and global warming reversed, so the whole world froze over, and we have to fix it!”

You’re looking at me like I’m crazy. You have no idea. “Sure, okay.”

Commence trekking. You’re not saying much. That’s all right. My ears might be too cold to hear, anyway. Those icy gusts slice right through my snow gear more effectively than our plastic swords ever could.

“Hey. Is that a sofa?” I guess I can still hear all right. Good to know.

“What? In the middle of the tundra?”

“Looks like it.”

“In the middle of the tundra?”

“Let’s go see.”

“Looks like it belongs at the dump.” Obviously that doesn’t bother me much since I sink into it anyway. “Being a pirate is tiring. Let’s take a break.”

You collapse beside me. “Okay.”

“Isn’t this fun?”

You shrug. “I could be playing video games.”

Glare.

You laugh and admit to it. Your smile, your eyes reassure me that you aren’t just telling me what I want to hear.

We’ve lost our mittens. Suddenly our hands find each other. The warmth of your fingers enveloping mine sends chills up my spine. You’re looking at me, truly seeing me, and I realize: this is it. You’re going to kiss me. It took you long enough.

I feel a spark on my lip (and to think we haven’t actually kissed yet). My heart skips a beat or several.

All at once I realize I’m clutching your hand at all, but rather that hideous plushie you won me at the fair last summer. I taste blood: I’ve just split my lip smiling.

I sigh and stumble out of bed. I’m sure you don’t think of me this often. I check the little clock in the corner of my laptop screen. It’s 1:43 AM. Something about that seems eerie to me, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Instant Messenger. Yes. A brilliant invention. Conversation is the best form of distraction.

You’re the only one online.

“Trouble sleeping?” you ask.

“You could say that.”

“Weird dreams?” you ask.

“You could say that.”

“I mean, really – pirates?”

I stare at the blinking cursor, wondering if I’ve lost it. The snow drifts press in on the little bubble of the house, insulating my little corner of heaven on earth. It’s 1:44 AM.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is another one I drafted a couple years ago. To think it's already been that long! I don't have much to say about it, really. I'm almost positive it was inspired by a real dream about a sofa in the middle of a frozen lake, almost kissing the person I liked at the time, and then waking up because I split my lip smiling. I am the biggest dork. I suppose it keeps things interesting. ^_^