by Jim O’Loughlin
“Good morning,” she says.
His eyelids open. He takes a deep breath.
“Hey,” he says.
She sits on the edge of the bed, staring out the window.
“Tell me what you dreamed about,” she says, not taking her eyes from the window.
“You know I never remember. What are you looking at out there?”
“Really, I don’t remember,” he says.
“I always tell you about my dreams.”
“I know. I hate your dreams. You always have me chasing you with an axe or something.”
She turns away from the window.
“That was one dream, and it’s not like I designed it that way.”
She turns back.
“But it must mean something. Otherwise you wouldn’t even be interested in mine.”
A ribbon of morning sunlight falls across the bed. He moves next to her, looking out the window.
“What are you looking at out there? There’s nothing but a wall and some wires.”
“Okay, then, you tell me. What does it mean when I dream you chase me with an axe?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re scared of me. Or maybe I represent something you’re afraid you can’t control.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You tell me then. Why would I chase you with an axe?”
“Maybe you’re afraid of me. Maybe you’re projecting your fear, coming after me before I can come after you. How’s that sound?”
Quiet. And then they speak at the same time.
“I Let’s WANT go TO back BREAK to UP bed.”
[Jim O’Loughlin’s flash fiction has been published recently in The Pedestal Magazine, North American Review and flash me magazine. He is the publisher of Final Thursday Press.]