This morning, fumes from two hours of sleep, I dream that I am walking the aisles of a grocery store. A large black man follows my steps, gaining proximity as my fear builds. Looking behind me to protect myself, I run right into him around the next turn. He grabs me from behind, both arms easily wrap my circumference, and holds me still. Sliding to the ground I wonder if this is it, the end. Eyes closed, knees from behind lock into the bend of mine. Warm width, chest to back, air on the nape of my neck. It takes a moment to realize that he's spooning me.
With all the feeling behind me, I begin to remember the feeling of comfort.
I shouldn't really call it a dream. It unfolds in predawn delirium, must have sunk just enough to ride that wave. Standing from sleep, from the strangeness of contact, I walk over to the window; the hint of light from the horizon meets me at the pane. The only wonderful part about being awake.
It's a new day, Prem, I whisper.
It's more dark than light, so I wait. I want to wait. I want to watch myself see. And more than anything I want to understand finally and forever: light emerges from darkness.
More light than dark and the mountain appears, illuminated edges at the sky. Moments earlier, it is still obscure. Light unveils what is already there.
I lay on the couch, cold under fleece, and accept the rays at my feet.
