The man I lay with sometimes totally disappears when he asleep.
You know how they describe dead people as: it looked like him but I could tell “he” had gone.
Well, that’s what happens. He’s gone.
The other night I was sure he wasn’t there (because sometimes he’s not; he’s in Sydney) but as I crept my leg across the bed I was astonished to find a big warm hairy thing nestled right on the edge of the mattress. Making no noise and having no earthly presence.
He always comes back. Well so far he has.
Sometimes, if he doesn’t leave when sleeping, he stays and I have very odd dreams. Like his dreams intermingle with mine and the waves constructively interfere and there are usually lots of concepts and colours and angst. They are not relaxing dreams. They are like the dreams had after eating too much cheese, where there is always something being done and to be done and happening and exhausting.