Dream Sequence · Zofia Provizer

I think I have 39 different dreams per night

especially on Tuesdays.
I’m not sure what the population average is, but that feels like it could be too many.
The last one was life before death, life before control, контроль, my wings spread against the underside of my belly. There was something in my hands. It could have been a vibrator, or a pair of scissors, or a phone charger. I can’t remember the way I want to. I was on my dorm room bed, but it had become a California King and was floating on top of water so clean that I forgot the way things slip off alone to die. I saw huge, white pillars in the distance, past my unseasoned fireplace and the smell of chlorine. You, on a plastic raft in a sheer pink overcoat, covering a rose-colored slip dress.

You were spilling water from your soft mouth.
I pulled at the skin over the top of my knuckles, dying to stretch my bones out to reach the spit at the end of your chin. When I finally caught up to you my cell phone lost service. You were pouring a bottle of shampoo onto the marble ocean floor. I pulled us both under, bubbles and all. You didn’t even look surprised. I clung to your calf, trying to lay us under the water with our eyes open, staring up at the surface.

Last night, even with your hair touching the top of your shoulders, you still would not look at me. I tilted my head against its will, checking you out, and the way you sat with your legs crossed and eyes closed. I am the missed beat. All you did was pay attention to another girl.

I cried on my way down the ski slopes. I was desperate to tell the instructor that my heart was broken, that I had become a ghost in your black eyes, maybe even less than that. I tried to cleanse myself in the bathtub, but your dead dog was laying in the way. I felt too guilty to step over her even though my body was dripping with grease.

Zofia Provizer is a senior at Lesley University where she studies Creative Writing and Women and Gender Studies. She has been published in MockingHeart Review, Construction, Commonthought, Lesley University’s literary magazine, and by Studio 360, reading on air for them in 2015. She has also been published by grlmag.com and has read in Červená Barva Press’ reading series. Zofia is very passionate about pop culture, and only writes what’s deeply embedded in her heart.