in the dream, i work in a diner. i hold pot of coffee in my right hand. white socks pout at my ankles. the customers look up at me from their breakfast food. out of the window i can see that it’s night time. the whole dream, i just wanted more. i woke up thirsty. zainab says that we can train ourselves to remember our dreams. i’ve been trying.
there was another dream where his eyes were the same colour as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you but not enough, to stay. last night on the train home, in the artificial light of the carriage, i saw a couple lean into one another until they fell asleep. i put my hands in my coat pockets and thought ‘i’m an extra in their film’. and what a wonderful film it was.

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