Ruefully, I admit to myself that it's the two cups of tea after 11 pm and not the disarming unexpectedness of the day that's making my pulse race. My usually faltering memory, gently jostled by CSN's crooning, strays into vivid recollections of other disconcerting moments.... me in bed and beautiful brown eyes staring at me with a dedication that demands a restraining order.
The sleep of the dead, abruptly intruded by the compelling certainty of being stalked. Instant wakefulness, usually only brought on my an explosion of Nirvana by the ears at 4 am. Actually, I lie - Nirvana leads to disorientation and untimely exercise of one's more pithy vocabulary (I like that word too - pithy. Very descriptive. Like smock). But this, this, is dead to combat alert in 4 seconds.
I start awake, hazy certainty permeating my brain, that solitude is now a stranger. Limpid, doe like eyes gaze at me from the foot of my bed. Wordless, constant, steadfast, causing irreparable trauma. All because going home to her bed would have meant an indefensible interrogation against a 3 hour exam completed in nine and a half minutes. Plan B - hang around those oblivious to daylight, and see if they can be stared into wakefulness. Mission accomplished.
We share the same dream; broken rays of the sun dappling the stones, filtering through the translucent leaves as we companionably share the langurous silence and dawdle our way through a box of chocolate éclairs. Top halves mine, bottom halves his. The serenity of the dream dissolved by the intense feeling of a screwdriver boring into the back of my head. I look across and am snared by deep chocolate eyes, only mildly accusatory, offering me the chance of redemption in the face of his love and loyalty. I look away. This time, 28 seconds before guilt overwhelms me and I succumb to the pull of those magentic, moist eyes. Another empty box, a billion more calories, the same smile. Time for another mid-morning REM session.
I wallow as lethargy crawls through my bones, toes curling, muscles stretching, the deliciously magical space between sleep and wakefulness after a raucous dawn symphony by Hitchcock's best. Déjà vu. I feel the heat of an unblinking stare that can only mean one thing. Big brown eyes, again. Urgent, hungry, needing. Startlingly palpable in its intensity, continuing unabated, fringing every sensation. I want to look away, but they consume me, more compelling than any touch. Tracing, memorizing, devouring yet oddly vulnerable. Always watching....... just like the twilight zone.
A decade of recovery, recklessly destroyed by unwavering, big, brown, glistening eyes, nose distance from my own. Fuck. Shockus interruptus as a voice, laced with the suspicion of tears, whispers, "I'm thirsty". I would have battled dragons, kissed frogs, done anything - even exercised, to quench that thirst. Instead, I calmed my arrhythmia, tripped down steps, fumbled in the dark bruising my shin, groped unfamiliar walls for light switches, cursed cavernous cabinets, and lost my heart....
Different places, different times, different creatures. A remarkable ability to totally freak me out, indelibly engraving the surreal in my mind. Brown eyes. Their beauty matched only by my desire to call the men in white coats....
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