Yes, yes, the band wagon rolled past slow enough for me to catch it so all I had to do was hop aboard.
Other than watching myself wandering around some forest, not much happened in it, yet the vividness of the imagery, which remained in my mind, had me questioning the significance of the dream I’d had for the past four nights—just as I puzzled over the name I’d been greeted by for the past three mornings, as well as the past three afternoons, and the past three evenings.
The second call of the clock broke my reverie, and I hit the switch again before rolling to face Peter. Inhaling, I detected the lingering odour of the previous night’s meal upon his breath, the unintended ejaculated fluid which always escaped during sleep, and each separate fragrance of the toiletries he’d used in his pre-dinner shower the evening before.
His eyes snapped open. “Are you sniffing me again?”
I smiled with my spoken, “No,” and slid from the bed.