Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

Insomnia
Sun rise. Jays screamed in the rhodies and roses. He came,
an indigo shadow, a dream following me. When he touched me, I
shivered.
He asked if I loved him. I didn’t know what to say. I lit a
cigarette. He stroked my face. My eyes watered. Heat crackled
along my jaw and cheekbones.
“What is this?” I asked.
“I chose you,” he said.
I shook my head.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
I turned away.
“What are you?” I asked.
“A dream,” he said. “A hope.”
“What does that mean?”
“Call me Gid,” he said.
The light turned thick, the color of a fresh bruise, smooth
as a marble floor. Mt. Hood stood like a broken tooth.
He said nothing. I told myself this was a dream but it was
more than a dream. It was real. It was frightening. I hated it.
Suddenly, music. Miles Davis.
“Come,” he said. He took my hand. I didn’t remember
reaching for him, but he lifted me to my feet and I lay my head on
his chest’s broad plane. Music circled us. His face was a smudge of
ash.
Wind lifted us into an empty, lilac sky. I wanted to scream,
but he held me too tight. I couldn’t breathe. Flying was terrifying. I
wanted to puke. I wanted to put my feet on the ground.
Suddenly, the world stopped spinning and we stood in a
room with no walls.
“This is all yours,” he said.
“There’s nothing here,” I said.