Any Dreams? – Michelle Christophorou

From the chair you ask, ‘Any dreams?’

A beach. In Durban-but-not-Durban. More Aegean than Indian Ocean. Rocks glow indigo under water lucid as Bombay Sapphire. Impossibly still. Silent. Unseen in the depths, a shark net stays monsters. Each fifteen feet of stealth and muscle, jaws crammed with triangular saws. I can almost feel their bullet shapes.

You watch me lie prone, eyes pinned to the ceiling, note my fingers chase circles in the cover’s rough fabric. And I know what you will say. That my unconscious would sneak to unleash them, let them wreak havoc. Again.

‘None that I remember.’

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