A Rethought

She begins her session again, this time cautiously, knowingly. She sees the familiar but vague looks in his eye as she assumes the possition for complete lift off...

"What if they're not dreams?" Stumbling, she speaks out.

"they who?" Dumbfounded, he fumbles through. He never was very deep.

"what if my dreams aren't dreams? what if--"

"AHHHH, But if they are not dreams than what are they?" His fake British accent is so overwhelming he starts at the sound of his own voice. Won't make that mistake twice.

"I don't know... Maybe the dreams are the realities and the realities are the dreams..."

"What realities??" he picks up his pen, crosses his leg and begins to draw a familiar face, on a sheet of paper that also houses his grocery lists and other important things.

"What if the apartment... the car.... the love of my life... the hapiness, is all just a dream and the realities are just one big jumble?"

"Oh!... Jumbles..." he mumbles as his mind is distracted with the thought of his word jumble left undone on the kitchen table. He adds it's completion to his "to-do" listb as she drowns out his other, more important thoughts...

"What if it's all just... nothing?"

Then she fell. Flat on the floor. The room grew dark and he was gone and the alarm did not sound and the lists and jumbles and pictures and couch and chair and eerything were gone.

And she did not move, because she didn't know if her legs were gone too.