I only had time for one flashing moment of thinking, I’m with you, like I always do when I’m with you, and then we moved in toward one another in the dark. I was terrified, a little. This was the moment. You moved slow, whole body shifting in one linear parallel to my more broken reaching out, ducked head. We whispered a little, giggling, but then there was a quieter quiet. The kiss—where is it? Our hands under the pillows met on accident, and then slow, invisible, we wrapped our fingers together. I kept talking, babbling, but I don’t know if I actually wanted answers to my questions or just to extend that moment. Do you ever try to control your dreams, I whispered. No, you laughed, and then you started snoring.

When I woke up my head was clear and I turned over immediately to say I dreamed of you. It’s a clip running down the same track in my brain as my memories. Is it real? It’s you, sitting on your couch while I look at your profile, and you’re saying, I am trying to express myself. I am trying to articulate.

I dreamed about you too, you said. You told me that in your dream, I was saying something that sounds like it came straight from my nervous mind: I want to make things last a long time.