He has a dream of being chased.
He's sleeping in your arms when it happens,
the slow drone of his breath catching
as the figure shows up
at his heels.
His face twitches,
and his arm comes up and grabs
at the air
because he just can not move fast enough.
He wakes with a start,
like stone between your arms
as his chilly eyes stare
into the darkness
he calculates if he's in danger,
that it is just you behind him.
You loosen your hold
and let him roll
to stare at the ceiling
and answer his own questions.
"I had a bad dream," he says as he stares at your ceiling.
"What was it about?"
You ask but you already know.
"I was being chased,
He was very big. Everything was.
"Crawling," You answer.
he repeats. He sighs.
He wants to ask you how you know,
but he's smart enough realize
that this has happened before.
He puts his head
back in the curve of your arm and closes his eyes.
He's quickly off to sleep.
You stay up, watch,
hope with all your heart
that he won't
wake up with a start
because he feels the bad man watching.
And that you won't ask his name,
because you know it's George
and know he wouldn't
to tell you,
You let him go to sleep,
because he won't remember this tomorrow.
He slips away, his past following right behind him.
He lives a dream of being chased.
You love someone who can't even remember his father's name.