shirt lift

She didn’t move.

She just stood there.
With her shirt over her face.

It was the almost hint of mouth I could see, that I couldn’t tell if it was her face or the shirt or.

The room felt bigger. Like the sliver of orange under the door was further away each time. It was hard to tell. You know in a dream. It feels separate.
In the dream, you forget who you are when you’re awake. And when you’re awake, the same thing happens.

It seemed like months went by without having that experience. But it’s hard to tell because of how dreams work. Like they run on separate time. Something was wrong with the time and I shouldn’t have been seeing it.

It happened this morning, I think. I thought it was morning when I woke up. But the sounds were different. And the world was slower. It was evening. Everyone was going to bed and I was going to be awake and alone.

I was still tired, but I didn’t want to close my eyes. Because when I did, the room was very quiet and I had a feeling that while my eyes were shut, something was standing there, completely still. No sound of breathing.

I almost wanted something to happen. So it would stop. But if something happened. It might be worse. And the light under the door might go away.

I’m very tired. I don’t think I should shut my eyes.