scene from an inverted subconscious

EXT- THE PACIFIC OCEAN

YOU and ME are standing on the shore, not looking at each other, while the ocean chews on our feet. The horizon is shifting so fast we can see straight through it.

ME: So when you're here, are you still thinking about things like economic decline and how we're all gonna die one day?

YOU don't respond. I look around and notice that, like the horizon, the sky and sand are shifting and have turned translucent.

YOU: It's like we're living inside a ghost.

ME: Have you ever been to a place where it really storms? The air gets all heavy and swollen, and I used to feel so exhilarated when the sky started getting dark. They don't really have storms like that here. Some days it feels so overcast it doesn't matter if you draw the curtains or not. 

YOU: And?

ME: And do you remember last week when you said your head was on the way to the jar? It's not, and I wish you wouldn't say that.

YOU: But it's true.

ME: It's not. You're not Sylvia Plath and it doesn't have to be this way. You know, some days I skip lunch just to stay and talk you through yourself?

YOU don't respond. 

SCENE CHANGE- EXT- MY BACKYARD

YOU and ME are sitting, looking at the airport lights through the fence. The world is no longer shifting, but watery and runny. 

ME: I think this is worse than before. It smells like chlorine and my eyes are burning up. I know I can't blame you for who you are, or the way your head works, I just wish you did the same for me sometimes. (A long, pregnant pause.) You know, I hate having dreams. I can never remember them when I wake up but I always have this taste in my mouth, like there's something corrupted about them.

YOU: And this one?

ME: I don't think I mind this one so much. 

YOU: You know who I am?

ME: There are a couple people you could be. I'm not sure what that says about me. You know, the lights really are beautiful from here. I never learned how to open my eyes underwater but I think I'm getting used to it now.

I glance at YOU, and stop talking. For a second, WE look at each other instead of the airport lights. 

YOU: I'm not Sylvia Plath. But I think it does have to be this way.