Last night I had a dream that I woke up in the middle of my own open-heart surgery. Doctors with covered heads and faces were up to their elbows in my guts. Organs and fluids sloshing around, I remember feeling pain in my chest (a rarity in dreams) and wishing someone would notice my eyes were open and conscious. I woke up still remembering the aching from the stitched and stapled wound (because apparently one or the other would not be enough?).
Tonight in writing class we had to write a 10 minute poem from the prompt, "Ways of Making Love".
I wrote about sleep.
According to me, love means a front row seat to your own invasive medical procedure.