Ben is plotting ice cream sundaes and television for a rainy night. I am already asleep on my feet, getting over this stupid flu bug and not getting nearly enough sleep besides.
I fall asleep midway through the bowl, tucked into his arm. I think he ate his spoon but I forget to ask as I turn and walk down the hall toward my dream while he settles in to watch a documentary on Bob Marley. My brain is fried, my synapses firing blind, nerves shot into a target painted black with large circles and holes, clean through.
In my dream, the devil marries me and the ring he puts on my finger is the mood ring he ripped from my finger when I was twelve. In my dream the ring fuses into my bones and becomes a part of me. I put a curse on it so that you can never get away, he whispers, his face turning black in the hollows, stretching long into the dark. His voice drops to a whispery-growl and I shrink away as the thunder rolls and crashes around us.
Blessed are those who mourn! shouts Jacob into the wind, standing at the top of the path under a tree bending dangerously in the high winds. His blonde hair whips against his teeth, lips spread wide into pure joy. You will be comforted! He points down at me and I shrink back against the devil, aligning myself with the dark. The devil wraps his arms around me and I disappear into him, screaming.
He squeezes hard and all of my breath escapes my lungs in a rush. My eyes fly open and it's Ben, his face an inch away from mine, his eyes filled to the brim with concern. He kisses my eyelashes. Just a bad dream, little bee. Just a dream. You're okay. I'm here. Everything's okay. I open my mouth to tell him I'm fine and begin to hyperventilate instead. He holds my attention and counts, one arm holding me close, the other stroking my cheek until I can exhale normally again and then after a few minutes he asks what this nightmare was about. It helps to talk about them, or so they say. I'm still on the fence.
The Beatitudes.
From the bible?
Yes.
Preacher dreams?
Satan was there too.
Which one was scary?
Both.
Ben squeezes me closer against him and presses his lips against my forehead. I hear Bob Marley singing in the background and for once I'm grateful for music that doesn't ask an emotional ransom of me.
