A Dream

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We were living in a house together. The house was a lot like the place where I live now but it was located in the suburbs. We were renting videos or watching videos or maybe the internet and something happened and you died in my arms. I knew that when you were dead what I had to do, what I had been instructed to do, was go to the basement and blow up the house. I gently laid you on the kitchen floor and snuck down to the basement. I knew if I cut the gas line with your knife the house would explode. I cut the gas line with your knife then crept back up to the kitchen, took you back in my arms, and held you tight, waiting for the house to explode so we would both perish along with it. Then you awoke. You looked at me, I was startled that you were alive and said we have to get out of the house as quickly as possible because it's going to explode. We ran out of the house and dove onto the grass. You asked me what had happened and I explained everything. We sat on the front lawn for a long time, watching the house (all of the windows and doors were flung completely open to air out the gas), waiting for it to explode. Then you got very, very angry at me for blowing up your house. I knew that I was in fact in the wrong because I was only supposed to blow up the house when you were dead and clearly you were not dead. Then there was a flashback to when I was in the basement, a close up on my hands: instead of cutting the gas line I had - by mistake - cut the sugar line (the sugar line was a white straw-wrapper filled with sugar.) I suddenly remembered this, my own incompetence, could still taste the sugar on my hand, told you this new detail, and we went back inside and cleaned up the house.



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