Lucid dreaming on a spring morning, 2010.

The bed stirs and I wake up. I see her blonde curls and the back of her head as she exits the room without a word, she leaves the door open. I fall asleep again. The trees in the park below the window are blooming. The room drowns in palpable, dense, green light.

Then it starts. The sun rises, glides past the church tower in the middle of the park. He is moving too fast. It disappears behind the ceiling of this room and reappears at the other side of the house, shining through the open door she left open. It sets in the garden at the back of the house. The night lasts seconds. Birds start singing. He rises again, he journeys through the sky, makes a bow, disappears behind the ceiling and sets in the garden behind the house. The night lasts seconds. He rises. He moves faster with each new day. He sets. I cannot get up from this bed. I can’t make it stop.