BONGOZ
#23

One Sleeping Cardigan

Somewhere between the day I stopped smoking cigarettes and the moment I
screamed out gravel, there was a sign. As far as signs go, this one was subtle,
damn near translucent. And I assumed that it had some sort of meaning, like
many of us do. Something divine, and honest, and mindblowing,
and earsplitting, and heart shattering, and eyebrow raising, and and and and...

My room is colder than any other in the house. I refuse, out of sheer masculinity
and stature as a native Minnesotan, to turn on a space heater. Instead I'll
swig whiskey and wear layers to sleep. The drawback here is that in my dreams
where I used to swim, I now drown smiling.

This reminds me of the time I told my mother about the dream where I was talking
and all my teeth fell out. She cried, and I asked her why, and she told me that
in her country this meant that I, or someone else, was going to die. I laughed,
because I sounded funny with no teeth. We agreed to disagree, but she still said a thousand Hail Marys and I smoked pot and fell asleep.

I didn't tell her about those dreams.

Brazz

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8k4CspcDzA