Is it just me or have the weird dreams returned? Those vivid, unsettling ones. How very late-March of us. How extremely early-April of our subconscious.
Maybe I'm not helping myself. Eating ice cream late leads to a restless night leads to a drowsy morning. And three times I think I hear a knock on the door. Not on the front door of our flat but on the hotel room door of quarantine. A sharp, 7am TAP TAP.
Twice I jump awake.
Recently I saw pictures of someone else's quarantine food on social media and it was better than mine was and I'm not saying I wish I was back there, but jealousy doesn't know reason. I had said to my boyfriend that I'd need all my food brought to the door of our bedroom and left on the floor in cardboard containers so I could acclimatise but I swear that was just a joke.
The third time I don't jump, I rise calmly and pad softly to the door. There's a birthday cake there with blue icing and candles that glow but aren't lit. There's something written on the top of the cake that I can't make out - dark red cursive. Is that blood? I flip the plate vertical to get a better look and the cake slips then floats, slow-motion to the floor. Landing softly. Sludging at my feet. Pooling through my toes.
Then I wake.