While You Were Sleeping

by A.W.

I sneaked into your head last night while you were sleeping and found one of my hairs next your olfactory bulb. I heard the olfactory bulb registers smell and also triggers memory. When my hair tickles it can you smell my cheap vanilla lotion? Do you think about the time I thrust my thigh under your nose and you told me my scent couldn’t be bottled, that it just smelt like me?

I also found a dismembered smile of that girl you dated. What’s her face? It was just floating around next your vibrations textbook in the back left corner. I tried to swim around it but her k-9s glistened at me with scorn. I hope her smile haunts you less than it does me.

Then the waters got more swift and irregular. I never knew about the storms that thrashed in your head each night. I always wondered why you pursed your lips like that. I thought it was just a nervous habit. Little did I know you were always on the verge of unleashing…

The Cure started to echo off the walls as a swell of pulpy, burgundy fluid nearly drowned me. I hurried to the side and saw my ethereal cream dress (the one I wore the first time we went to the bar) clinging to your skull. Above my dress was a transcription of our first exchange, when you finally acknowledged me. You smirked at my tequila-tinged chuckles and said:

“How about I just call you white gir…” The last letter is already rubbed off.

You shouldn’t have written it in washable marker.

I felt a little queasy then (seasickness and all.) I looked down and saw amorphous shadows shifting under my feet. I feared that if I kicked too firmly one would have dragged me under. My arms started getting tired but I found one of your nephew’s snow globes and crumpled my body around it for support.

You rolled over and your current swept me to the opposite side. I was tired of the aimless wandering and nestled into a small indentation in your cranium and started carving. The filaments of bone flaked off in soft chunks, peppering the bloody froth below. I know you have never experienced snow before so I thought I would create a blizzard inside of you.

You may wake up with a headache and feel a bit disoriented tomorrow but it will all make sense in a little while. All the things I could never articulate to you are etched in the front right corner – my heart’s hieroglyphics. Just feel around and you will find them soon enough.

A.W. has delusions of grandeur. She often mistakes her fragmented thoughts for prose, but she is fortunate enough to be surrounded by brilliant friends who produce glistening nuggets of wisdom that enrich her life.

Back to Fiction.

Back to Issue 6.