Lay

I’m walking in the city with this woman that I like a lot. We’re talking and laughing and I feel pleased and relaxed. It’s sunny, and the woman is wearing a white, light dress, and I know, or think I know, that she’s not wearing anything underneath.

She asks me if I’d like for her to make us dinner. I do not mind, so we head for her place. As we approach her house, I’m astonished by the size of it - it’s really, really tiny, almost like a doll’s house. But we have no problem walking through the front door and straight into the kitchen.

She insists on doing everything herself. I just sit by her kitchen table drinking water. We talk more, and laugh, and have a really good time. She starts flirting with me, at least intensifying it. Her dress sometimes stroke my skin as she passes, on her way to a cupboard or the sink. She sometimes caress the top of my head too.

Dinner never comes, it seems, as she suddenly tells me to go lay in her bed. I obey. Her bed is huge, and it’s placed in an upward angle on the floor - I lay down in the most awkward position; my feet pointing upwards and my head almost at floor level. It’s weird, because when I lay like this, I’m suddenly unable to see the woman. No matter how much I try, I can’t see her. I can hear her voice, though, and it’s moving from side to side, somewhere behind me. She asks me all kinds of questions, about food, about clothes, about everything. I try to answer but her next question always come too fast, so I’m stuttering. Then she asks me: «Would you like for me to come lay with you?»

I answer «Yes», and then I hear a voice saying: «Ok, I will. Here I am.» I turn to face the voice. In bed with me is me. I just lay there, smiling. In my head, the voice from just seconds ago repeats, and this time I can hear that i’ts my own.

I wake up.