While this morning’s coffee percolates, I come to the butcher block to write last night’s dreams on the page. Here in the scattered gecko poop, dusty gemstones and papery peels of old garlic cloves the details filter through my pen.

Two young girls are hospitalized while in my care due to dehydration. I tossed myself awake and thought “must remember tomorrow to tell coach at soccer camp to make sure Jeb is getting enough water!”

Then back to sleep where I found myself in a new town with a lover from my past. There’s a restaurant down the street and I’m excited to go with him. I’m inspired to get dressed up: nice shoes, stockings and a skirt. I keep trying to find the right clothes to wear. One green crocheted shirt in my bag with sparkled beads reveals a salsa stain in the lower corner. Can’t seem to get the stockings to fit just right.

Lover from the past is hedging while I sift through my suitcase. He’s feeling too much between us, not sure we should even dine together. He considers saying goodbye and leaving me there in a pile of ill-fitting, mismatched garments.

Coffee’s ready now and the dreams are in the archive. I observe my dull headache and wonder if I’m the one that’s dehydrated.