I am up now and I feel terrible. Was it a dream? Gosh, why don’t I remember anything? I remember that it was awful. Was it about falling? Was it about death or fear or hunger? I don’t know. I simply don’t know. I guess the only thing left from here is to turn this morning around and have some fun.
Let me make myself some coffee. I head to the kitchen and there are footsteps in there. What is this sound? I live alone. Is it some lucid dream? I am not used to sounds in the morning.
I step in the kitchen with a bit of tremble. There is no one. I am relieved. I must be hallucinating. But then I look at the kitchen platform. There is a steaming hot cup of coffee right there. I surely did not make it. Who did it?
I step outside and check the locks. I don’t have a maid or a family member who could simply step in uninvited. I live as the sole owner of this house and all its keys.
The coffee is waiting there. Should I just go ahead and drink it as if nothing happened? I take the coffee to my lips. It burns my tongue. I wake up.
It was a dream. But the burn is real. I hear footsteps again. I step out to see if anyone is there. My mother is making coffee in the kitchen. This is a different universe I have woken up to. I live with my family. It is all OK. I ask for some ointment for my burnt lip and tongue. She gives me a frown.
“How did you burn it?” she asks.
“It was just a dream,” I say and she understands.
Wait a minute. How was she OK with it? Is this also a dream? How is having a bad dream an explanation to burnt tongue? I need to wake up right now. I step out and go to the terrace. I take a leap of faith to the ground underneath. It is a beautiful morning. A hummingbird circles my neck as I plummet to my imminent death.
I wake up with a sharp breath. This time, there are no footsteps. It is quiet in here. I step down and the floor is a bit cold. I stretch myself and look around. The sky is clear and there is fog all around. In the distance I see a mountain peak. I turn around to look at my bed. It is a cot on a snowy hilltop. I had come for a trek and decided to sleep on this hill.
“Wait, how did I carry a cot to the top of this mountain?”