Ægri Somnia

I dream about a large glass of water. I'm holding it with both hands; it is full and heavy. With some effort I can raise it to my mouth and peer down into the ocean held within, it is perfectly clear down to my distorted feet. They quiver and pop, pieces tear away smooth like mercury and snap back. My legs dance to an invisible rhythm as if compelled by the tides. When I drink my lips wrinkle the water and my feet tap out the offbeat. I won't ever finish this glass and I am happy.

When I lift my head above the rim my mother-in-law is there, distorted as if the world was full of swirling water. Her arm is outstretched, a tight fist draws my attention to the thumb sticking straight up and gently pulsing in the current. She speaks and the sound of her voice is crisp, clean and full of praise. "Water's a good choice. It's really good for you" she says.

When I woke up this morning all I wanted was a glass of water.