i had a dream where my face was plastered in post-it notes. i tried shedding them, but they kept growing back. i thought i saw your shadow through the paper, so i tried making a joke to lighten the mood.
“funny how this keeps happening, huh?”
you didn’t respond, but what can i expect from a dream? i thought i could smell the menthol on your clothes. scent is a powerful memory jogger, i read that on Psychology Today once. the post-it notes started to leave little lacerations on my face and eyelids. i put on my best smile to attempt another conversation starter.
“it kinda hurts”
dead air, the only sound was my own breathing. is it futile to converse within a dream? but it’s you, so i try again.
“i want to go home”