I Always Remember My Dreams

I always remember my dreams,

and I think that might be a bad thing,

because the first thing I do when I wake up is give you an indignant *thwack* with my pillow,

my mind still full of *that thing you did*,

and I know it isn’t fair, not really, to blame you for what your dream doppelganger did,

but how can I not,

after seeing you sidle up next to her in the restaurant that only exists in my mind,

putting your arm around her waist like I don’t exist and pulling her in like you should only ever touch me,

making me angry, just so, so angry,

but then I’m awake,

my alarm sounding in the background,

jogging me out of my reverie but somehow leaving an imprint of that arm,

and that girl,

and that restaurant,

as clear as if I was still in that moment,

leaving me no choice but to *thwack* you on the head,

so that next thing I know you’re awake,

bewildered and bemused,

staring at me in utter consternation while the imprint of the girl fades but your bleary-eyed gaze remains,

and as the sleep clears from my mind I try to explain,

as best I can,

what exactly is going on here,

leading you to pull me in tight,

laughing with me like only a familiar lover can,

falling back into bed together,

your arms around my waist in that way you only ever touch me,

and leaving the last traces of the bad weird dream behind,

reminding me why I always remember my dreams,

and why I think that might be a good thing.