These dreams have been feverish for weeks now. The end of the world. The victim of a shooting. Public embarrassment and doppelganger dogs. Like in life, I don’t know what’s going on, yet towards the end of each nocturnal hallucination, the two of us are in the throes of fucking. She’s digging her fingers into my back, and as I’m about to shoot my little death deep inside of her, time comes to a halt like the faltering hands of a dying clock. Locking eyes, it’s as if we’re falling to the bottom of the world. To the depths of memory, where the past shines in silence like fresh snow beneath moonlight. In a moment that’s gone before it’s even begun, my hopes and fears are engulfed by a sense of sadness that defines my entire life. It goes with the territory though, because as a writer, I must live through my mistakes twice. In this maelstrom of emotion, I feel a sense of attachment to her more than anyone else. We’re almost strangers, yet she plays a secret chord that stirs something within me. In the dead of night, with the sound of rain washing over my trembling limbs, I wake naked in her gaze. Beads of sweat are clinging to my upper lip; hair stuck to my forehead like gum. Curled into a ball like a tiny animal, I know that on the distant horizon, unseen lights glow so tenderly. So invitingly. Lights I wish to embrace. Lights as bright as those she keeps hidden inside.