Autoaesthetic Fixation

In the dream I'm asleep on the couch. There are two faded green candles glowing down, falling away slowly under the tension and release of their own heat while the credits to a movie I lost somewhere in the middle roll by unnoticed.

There's a sense like a flashbulb against the window, followed by the sound of a car engine in need of attention pulling into the drive. As she turns the key and enters, she finds me sitting there on the edge of the couch, rubbing my eyes back into place.

It's quiet. The candles silently flicker, animating our shadows against the wall. I say something corny, something like, "have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?"

          I don't ask where she's been.
          I don't care what she's been doing.
                I don't say anything at all.


I'm just happy to see her home. Breathless to find her close. Hungry to feel her touch. She hangs her keys on the hook by the door, and then smiles me to a whisper with her eyes while the candles continue to flicker, burn, and melt.

          In the dream that's what happens

But in this world it's different. Because I've been awake for a while,

                 ...and she's still not home.

[Listening to: Blonde Redhead, "Astro Boy"

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