In My Sleep

I dreamed last night.  In it, we were both being disagreeable with one another.  I could not make out the reason for the shouting or the sharp tones.  I screamed, “I ain’t leaving even if the walls fall down around us.” Walking towards the door you laughed, “I will be sure to send someone over to dig you out.” I heard the back door close and the garage door rise.  I awoke or maybe came to but was unable to open my eyes. There was a mild sense of panic.  I heard the ceiling fan hum but did not feel the breeze that it was capable of creating.  I heard the sounds of the fish tank bubbles coming from the den.  I heard the aging hard drive of my computer spinning at my desk.  What I couldn’t hear was the soft sound of your breathing as you slept next to me.  I couldn’t feel the warmth of your body on the sheets next to me.  My subconscious must have alerted me of a missing part of my conscious world and shook me from my slumber.  You were not next to me. Your spot in our bed was cold.  I sat up, almost jumped up.  I was in panic mode waiting to hear the garage door close as you drove off.  Instead, I heard the toilet flush!  By the time I laid back feeling a sense of relief, you curled back up into my arms unaware of how the rush of water had averted my subliminal meltdown.  I squeezed you tightly as we gently slipped off to sleep. Good Morning Sweetheart.  My love for you is of more than this world can hold.  Glad the tomb is empty.