And so, because —with the staggered television sounds snd a piece of a conversation that belongs to…. ? …. oh, it’s too involved to quite wrap my head around just yet….
my head is so foggy, I sit up and put my head in my hands
I don’t know what I was expecting but I think it was that when I pulled my hands away from my eyes I would see something …. like a miserable container interior or—the drear of farmland and Sunny’s lodge
….or, the Adirondaks even….
like the bunker underground I was buried in for so long ….my god was that, like— only just a little over a year ago? No…. then it was the high school stalker ….Shit— how many nightmares can you list off in ten seconds that have happened in my most recent life? ….but….
Now—alas …. it looks like, i have succeeded in losing my mind, bravo, as I am hallucinating or actually having a very lucid dream— unless, who knows, by some lucky twist of fate, I am …. fucking saved from that slow suicide that has been my life as my —magic pumpkin could have arrived in time, thank god, to get me the fuck out of there—as if—at last, and …. nice dream
To be back here
Because as I look around my surroundings —my grogginess wears away
as again I sharply notice …. those very signature things …. it is that strange otherworldly quality I remember …. somewhat majestic, only actually sexy, yet in a sort of clinical yet most un-dreamlike way as
….everything is white, minimalistic
—then I am startled with —!
“ni två är som två bortskämda brats, jag kunde höra er i korridoren!” A familiar high shouting voice now says. I hear a door slam.
Then another familiar, yet slightly shrill operatic voice says,
“vet du vad den där ungen — din pappa — gör? brat är det rätta ordet, han beter sig som om han var tio med den där överprissatta hörapparaten. visste du att den höjer och sänker volymen?”
What is going on? I am so confused, I find, as I slowly start to realize this weird dream—isn’t one, and I appear to be back in Manhattan in Jörn’s apartment and in his bedroom
I hear him now say,
“hur mår patienten?”
And it is Josef’s familiar voice who replies,
“Jag kollade på henne innan men hon var fortfarande inte vaken. har hon hjärnskakning? det är inte säkert att låta henne sova.”
“Jag ska gå och träffa henne nu,” I hear Jörn then say and then hear footfalls of steps near.
A moment later I hear a tap and look up and see Jörn in the doorway of his bedroom
“How are you feeling?” he says before I have a chance to get a good look at him
I force myself to sit up and prop myself to the headboard and look at him
And as I look at him ….I say,
“what am I doing here?” only now I see he carries his big cello.
I see him set it down now as he sees me looking. He walks across the room and draws open the window sheers and looks at the street below for one moment before he turns to me
and yes….he is beautiful …. sleek golden hair tied back in a knot, a Nordic god….and immaculate as always, I notice as…. he wears his symphony clothes ….?
“Are you playing back at the philharmonic?” I ask even as I realize I’ve not allowed him the chance to answer my other question
He raises one finger to start to say something but then changes his mind and walks over to me instead and….
Only, it is his eyes ….those ageless, timeless, immortal vampire eyes that dazzle as deadly as kryptonite with their strange northern lights glow and
it is déjà vu …. because how many times have I looked up at him from this exact place on his ….bed ….but it has not been for ….so long that ….we have been here ….and …. I am so confused and ….
it seems to fuck with my emotions ….
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