Sliver

Patchwork hills of blankets and pillows covered the dipping surface of the trampoline. A canopy of knotted sheets hung over us, with a sliver of the starry sky visible through a wide slit. It was still, and quiet, except for the crickets. Our phones illuminated our faces at intervals as we took (highly flattering) pictures to commemorate the moment. We whispered until I finally fell asleep, and even then you kept on whispering with each other.

I dreamt that I was in a huge, white, marble building, with a lake of golden glitter in the center that shimmered and undulated like water. I fell in, and hid in a cupboard that looked very familiar, then crawled through a tunnel to my grandma’s house where we watched I Love Lucy. You were all there, I remember, and we were eating burnt popcorn too. But we were sad because a ghost we had disturbed told us that I had to leave.

And then I woke up, and you were all still asleep, and the sky was still dark. And the crickets were still chirping. I closed my eyes again and fell back down the hole, and you were still there when I woke up the second time.