A Dead Man's Dream Log.

I suppose our story-- no, my story begins several months ago. My name is Joseph, and I am twenty-three years old. My last name, frankly, is unimportant, and my first is yours to know just for the sake of putting a name to a character. Her name... was Alora.

I woke up for work at the same time I always did, in the same position, in the same bed. I removed my arms from around Alora, attempting not to wake her. I was successful, and about this I felt much joy, maybe for the last time. My routine was simple, shower, shave, dress, leave without making to much noise. She had to leave for work two hours later, and I was sympathetic to the fact she didn't get much sleep. Looking back, I deem the long hours and conflicting schedules were what led our relationship into a steady, if not imperceptible decline.

At my work, there was a girl by the name of Emmy. Emmy was a born flirt, and preyed on unavailable men, namely myself. Over the past few months she had made obvious signs that she was interested in me, and I felt the same attraction. I felt like I needed to commit some heinous act, or I would die of boredom. With Alora, the only time she was not cumbersome to be around was when she was asleep. Just her voice would instill in me a deep set rage, and I was the kind of gut that burned like a cigarette. My anger could last for weeks, and sometimes I blew up trash cans if some poor idiot gave me the fuel. After work, Emmy and I would sit inside her car and talk. She would tell me stories that I honestly didn't pay much attention to, because my eyes were usually elsewhere. God, that girl could talk. After our one-way chats, I would grab a bite to eat at a fast food restaurant, then go home to watch TV and go to bed. In the morning, I would begin another thrilling installment in the life of Joseph.

What was strange was when I got home that night, Alora was still in bed, asleep. I just assumed she had gotten off work early, and thought nothing of it. I ate my greasy burger, and before I was halfway through my usual mindless channel flipping, I was out. I woke up to a sticky note on the TV asking me if I had a long night. Alora claimed to had tried to wake me, but I wouldn't budge. She said she was sorry for sleeping all day, and didn't know what had happened. I smiled and walked to the bedroom to get my clothes for my daily shower, and I noticed she was in bed. I sat at the foot of the bed and tickled her feet, which was her most sensitive spot. It seems like everyone’s feet are ticklish. You should try it sometime. Anyways, she tossed and turned, kicked her feet, even mumbled a little bit, but wouldn't wake up. I shrugged it off and took my shower, and before I left I responded to her post-it.

Alora,

Tried to wake you, no cigar.

I love you, see you when I get home.

Joseph

On my way to work, I listened to the radio and they played a song that Alora loved. I sung the whole song, which I was used to. Except, usually it was against my will and better judgment. Man, I hated that song. I got to thinking about all the things we had done that song, and why she would like it. I guess that was when I started to miss Alora. For better or for worse, she really could make a terrible song sentimental.

After work, Emmy followed me to my car. I had a killer headache and hadn’t eaten in some time, so I was kind of moody. She called my name and I turned around, and that was all the time she needed to pin me to my car. I hadn't even unlocked my door yet. Typical.

“Joseph” she breathed real heavy, like she had chased me. Which, she hadn't.

I kind of looked at her face, then looked down. I figured it would just be another one of our “talks”. I was wrong. “What, Emmy?”

“I'm tired of trying for you, and you not noticing me. I want you to get rid of Alora and be with me.” She look flustered, like I was offending her by not looking her in the face. Women.

“Oh..” Was about all I could muster at the time. All I heard was get rid of Alora.

“Well? You have to make your choice now, Joseph.” I kind of looked around. She put her hand on my chest, and pushed hard against the car, and put her face in mine. I can remember her cheap perfume perfectly well. Nothing like the smell of burnt rubber to get a man's attention. That's when it went down hill. I started to fidget, and I guess she was tired of my games because that's what she told me. Her hand went behind my neck and pulled me down to her. Her lips went to mine, and all I could do was mouth “Alora” as they covered mine. My heart went into a frenzy, and so did Emmy. She jumped on me, and I guess she was expecting me to catch her. Needless to say, I didn't expect her to jump on me, and she met the ground. This gave me enough time to cry out Alora, unlock my door, and receive a rather long string of derogatory terms.

The drive home that night was the worst drive of my life. The only thing in my head was her name. I called it out endlessly, as if that would make her forgive me. Why I did this, I'm still unsure.. I didn't ever get the chance to tell her. I opened the door, walked straight to the bedroom. I had a sick feeling she would be asleep. I hate feelings. I crawled into the bed and put my arms around her. I cried into her hair, which smelt of strawberries.. They were her favorite fruit. I guess I fell asleep there. I woke up to a notebook on the foot of the bed, with Alora still asleep in it. Today was my day off. The notebook is still burned into my brain. It read as follows:

Joseph,

I've been looking into why our sleep patterns have been so off lately. I fall asleep at exactly every 12 hours, and I am assuming the same for you. I called my sister, and she referred me to a voodoo woman. She should arrive at noon, and I want you to let her in and tell her what's going on. She should have the materials she needs with her, and I'll be able to kiss you while your still awake in only a few hours.

p.s. Why was my hair wet when I woke up?

Your Love,

Alora

I was nervous and excited. I had two hours to kill before the voodoo woman arrived, so I went out and got breakfast. When I got back to the house, she was outside in her car. She got out as I did, and asked if I was the man who lived in that home. I nodded, and we walked up to the house, I unlocked it, and we entered.

“This home has very dark energy in it. Your girlfriend has told me that a sleeping curse has been cast upon you.” She walked about the house, and surveyed every room. If you ask me, it looked like she was assessing what she could steal.

“I haven't seen her awake in a week now. Can you fix it?” I was much to anxious for small talk.

She nodded and opened her brief case. “Drink this, both of you, and go to sleep. I will stay for an hour to see that everything is alright.” We poured the elixir down Alora's throat, and I drank the rest. It was like drinking chalk, with the effect of drinking twelve bottles of cough medicine. I saw shapes and animals and things I know aren't real. Ever seen a skeleton with a Ph. D? My dreams were the most beautiful of any I had ever had. Alora and I were in an open field, at night. We sat under the stars, and I held her as she slept. Funny, even in my dreams she slept.

I woke up and gave a big stretch, the sign of a long healthy slumber. I could hear the rain pattering on the windows. I looked to my side, and my heart dropped. Alora was still asleep. I tried to wake her, and nothing happened. I panicked, and called 911. The rest is really just a blur. I just remember that the worst drive of my life was the day before the worst ride of my life.

I was in the ambulance with her. They secured her, but they didn’t hook her up to any machines.

I thought that was a good sign. It wasn't, I later found out. I held her hand all the way to the hospital. I was in a daze as we got there. They took her too a room, and I wasn't allowed to enter. I called her family, and only her mother showed up. I guess later on, others visited, but I never noticed them. The doctor came in, and he told us that Alora had had an allergic reaction to the elixir the voodoo woman had prepared. Alora was now in a vegetative state. I blacked out.

I woke up with my arms around Alora, in the hospital bed. I stared dumbfounded at her, trying to put everything together. I remembered the ambulance ride, the doctor.. Alora.. When you lose the love of your life, it's like losing yourself. When her family decided to pull the plug, it was like they pulled the plug on me more-so than her. I stayed in the bed for maybe a day. I cried all day, or slept. It felt like a fitting tomb. The only things in that hospital bed were corpses. The doctors would come by and say things like “That was true love.” or “He must have really loved her.” Doctors don't know anything about love. They think because they can save lives and touch hearts, they know what love is. All they do is watch it die.

Eventually, they made me leave. I went home, and laid in bed awhile. All the memories came, and the notebook was still there. There was a message on the voicemail from Alora's sister about how the voodoo woman was a fraud. I couldn't help but smile. God really does have a cruel sense of humor. The bed became my only sense of comfort, because it was the last time I had seen her alive. The last time I had seen her alive, she was dead.. I just hadn't known it yet. I quit my job, and took out all of the money in my savings account, and sold all my belongings, except the bed. I rent a small apartment down town now, with nothing but my bed, enough food to get by, and all the sleeping medication a family of elephants would need to overdose.

The only time I can live is when I'm not awake. Because, in my dreams, Alora is still asleep.