There was this hallucination going around in the morning. A contagious one that I was the first to catch.

It made me think I was at the dentist. Latex fingers stretched my mouth open and my mouth proved that it could even be more gigantic. I was under the utmost control as the hygienist plotted her next scrape. It was difficult for me to see anything. I couldn’t open my eyes nearly as wide as my mouth…and I tried…HARD. For a second I succeeded and saw the track from the lighting in our studio apartment.

Once I knew I was in bed, I suddenly became self-conscious about my mouth being open. Was it? I couldn’t tell because I could barely move. Robert would’ve told me if I looked ridiculous. He would’ve laughed me awake. I was able to open my eyes again and tilt my head. He wasn’t there.

Thank God. I’m already difficult enough to look at in the morning. If he had to look at me plus inhale the crumpled up dollar bill breath of someone with momentary sleep paralysis, I probably would’ve owed him money.

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In real news, my dental hygienist informed me today towards the end of my visit that she’s moving to Hawaii. “I’ll be sure to put in a service note that you like frequent breaks for swallowing.”