There he is again, creeping through my subconscious. Shadowy, filmy, lying opposite me in my bed. Why is it he instead of Sweetie? I reach, but he is gone. I get up to find her at the computer, weary, but wide awake. I wander back to bed to find it empty. I crawl in and slip away from awareness. Later, turning, I sense warmth beside me. Startled, I strain to see in the ambient light, and relax; it is she, not he. I close my eyes and it seems I see better than before. There in the semi-darkness I see his shadow slip down the hall, or do I?. Up, I search the house. Nothing is amiss. I have to pee and waking, I climb out of bed with a feeling of dread. I can't go back to sleep so I read in hopes drowsiness will return before dawn.
I fall asleep in the recliner, covered, cozy. Later, my back stiff, I move to my bed and find him lying beside her. I reach for the bat I keep behind the bedroom door but turning back he is gone. It has happened so many times before, I shake it off and climb beneath the covers and warm my cold feet near her warm ones. Arising, I find the dishes done and suppose Sweetie has done them in the night.
The church bells are ringing, it is seven o'clock, better get up. I am surprised to find myself in the recliner, though I remember coming down to read. My heart is sick and my muscles ache. I walk to the kitchen. Somehow, I am surprised the dishes need washing. Something's not right? Of course they're not done, we left them that way when we went to bed. I wish I could go back to bed.
_____
I've had this recurring dream. Not quite a nightmare, but very nearly. For years, I only remembered having had it previously, while dreaming it again. I would awaken disturbed and out of sorts, but with no conscious recollection of what had strummed the discordant string I felt still vibrating in my soul. I only know it reoccurred over time because when I finally awoke amid the dream, I knew what was going to transpire next; and it did.
Over time I have learned to observe my dreams from a vantage point near consciousness, but shy of wakefulness. I don't know what to call this state. It is rather like watching a movie. I can observe the dream and be an outside observer of the action and still remain in the darkened theater of sleep. I don't always get this privilege, but it happens often in my Interloper dream.
Sometimes I can even observe things in the wakeful world without waking myself. In the case of the Interloper, this ability only enhances the agony and wonder of it.
_____
I've named the Interloper. I call him Echo. Echo, because it's as if I never really see him, just the echo of him. I know echo refers to sound, but in my dream he is an echo of light. Its as though he's vanished just before I see him, but the vision is still somehow bouncing off the walls. Sometimes it is not the walls; but the faces of loved ones. It's as if there is a flash of delight in their eyes, that suddenly disappears at seeing me. I can't tell if I really saw it, or just hoped I did. Somehow, I sense a flicker of shock in them, like sucking a straw expecting soda and getting water. Shock, and disappointment. In my dream, it seems Echo precedes me everywhere I go. And disappointment follows.
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