I want to hate you right now
But in my dreams you are a nice person

I woke up to the stupid sound
Of my phone alarm

And went back to bed,

Since my flight to New York
Got canceled.

I’m in a print studio

That looks like our school's print studio,

Except its door opens on a sidewalk

With people hanging out,

Drinking wine,

Speaking Castilian Spanish.
I’m opening a drawer full of animal blocks,

You walk in

I look up

You nod

I look down,

Disturbed.

Then, it unmistakably becomes a dream

Because our print shop

Moving to a Spanish town

Is more likely than what happens next:

You open your mouth and speak to me.
It is small talk,

Friendly,

Nonchalant.
“I hate you,”

I say.

“Ok,”

You say.

“Come with me.”

You grab my sleeve,

You drag me out of the studio.

We’re on a lush, warm island

And we’re going up

In an open elevator

For what feels like hours.

As we do

I see a barn

With a grassy roof 

Where horses go to sleep at night.

We finally get to your place,

The elevator stops

There are many rooms

Strewn with clothes.

I look around,

I imagine you here with her.

I stop in front of an aquarium.

There are all kinds of threatening animals.

The hermit crabs are taking over,

One comes out of the water
And devours a spider

That was passing by.

It’s exactly what I hoped would happen,

I am surprised by my own cruelty.

I wonder where you went,

But I feel calm:

Wherever you are

You haven’t left the house

And I know that you’re still an asshole

But you care enough to want to talk.

Any moment now you will appear and tell me

Something sad but sweet 

And I will hate you a little less.

Maybe we will drink some whiskey,

I will imagine kissing you

But I most definitely won’t.

I will transfer that energy

To a kiss in the future,

To someone

Who maybe lives in New York

And wants to be kissed.

You still haven’t come back.

I’m looking at sea creatures.
My dreaming self is pleased:

"These sea creatures look great,
Good job imagining them."