Ilium Journal

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New Writing

Between Dreams


By Szilvia Molnar

We were at someone else’s place and snuck into the bathroom. There were people outside somewhere in the apartment, moving back and forth because this was a party. We had to avoid being seen together. I went first. The bathroom had a bathtub. I got undressed and got into the empty bathtub. You came second. You’re the married one.

The showerhead was attached to a pump, the size of a large coffee thermos. You said something and I said something and I looked around and you sat behind me nakedly. Your legs wrapped themselves around me.

We were talking during this time about how this was not possible. We can’t do this. And then I sprayed you down with water.

Another night, I found a naked baby and I took it home because it could have been ours. It puked something see-through on me so I decided to shower it.
Then I noticed it was very hungry. I let it suck my right breast but of course it was disappointed and when I turned it toward the left breast the baby turned into a newborn bird but one with the softest feathers. I needed to get food in the bird baby real fast but I wasn’t sure if there was enough time. Life was about to end. I thought of calling the hospital and realized that I should have done that from the start.

I don’t know what exactly happened or why but in between these dreams last night I yearned for you. My body was reaching out to you and I was imagining us kissing, gently in the present. My body wanting only to be in the present.
We were standing up and I was looking up at you, holding the back of your neck, perhaps slightly pulling at your hair, and you hung over me like a large feathered creature, something comforting.


Illustration by S. Lorenzo


There are these men who sometimes act like boys and they’re around and want to do things to me and I’ll probably let them do things to me, and I’ll probably have a good time and sometimes even laugh or learn something but it’s you who I think of. I miss your arrogance, awkwardness, bluntness, your cheeky humor. I miss you from here. And I’m left feeling slightly helpless.

But I want to be released from this yearning, this immediate urge to want to be with you. I need to tell myself and you need to tell me that it’s not going to happen.
This shouldn’t happen. Us won’t happen. I’m looking in the wrong direction.

We are not friends. We never were and never will be. And you need to tell me to never write to you again as I will tell you to never write to me again.

Do we have a deal?

Fingerlickingly yours,

Szilvia


Mark