Ger just lay there and soaked in the warmth of bed. Only when he was good and ready did he sit up in confusion. This was the part where you said
“But it felt so real.”
His phone said 2:30am. He debated his options, staring up at the dark ceiling. He could just go back to sleep, forget about the dream. The ambulance siren decided his fate. Swinging out of bed he fixated on the sliver of light peeking beneath his bedroom door door. He was going to tell someone about this dream.
Ger stepped into the living room in his Hugh Hefner dressing gown. He swaggered across the apartment’s living room, sucking on an imaginary pipe. It wasn’t exactly Playboy Mansion. It was like a bunch of rooms jammed together, all of them a mess. In the midst of it all was Matthew. Of course Matthew was still up, hunched so far over his laptop that he was almost off the couch. His skin had the healthy paleness of someone who’d only heard about sunlight.
“You’re up!” said Ger, a bit more ragged than intended.
“Barely,” grunted Matthew.
Ger sauntered over to the fridge and slurped down the last of their milk. He set the carton back beside a bunch of mouldy celery and smacked his lips. Matthew sighed.
“I had the weirdest dream,” began Ger.
“No one cares,” said Matthew “Seriously, our dreams are never as interesting as we think they are.”
Slightly hurt, Ger switched subjects “Tom’s still out?”
“You know him. He’s in and out all night. Just sleeps during the day.”
Ger sat on the far end of the couch, though he had to shift a pile of laundry to do so “Yeah, I always envied him that. And you?”
“Quarterly review tomorrow. Have to let people know how good I am.”
Ger grinned “Should be easy for you.”
The catflap swung and a black feline padded in.
Finally, someone Ger could tell “We were just talking about you, Tom.”
The cat leapt onto the table, then it spoke “Morning Ger, you’re up early.”
“Don’t ask him about the dream,” warned Matthew
“Y’know,” said Ger “I had the weirdest dream.”
Thomas sat back on his haunches, tail curling behind him “Herr Gerard, tell me about zis dream.”
“Well doctor, you know I don’t dream much.”
“A common misconception,” said Thomas, still channelling Freud “All men dream, ve simply do not remember zem.”
Matthew pulled off his glasses so he could rub the bridge of his nose.
Ger continued “Well this dream doctor, I have to say it felt like it was real.”
Thomas did another bad impression “Dreams feel real while we’re in them. It’s only when we wake up that we realise something was actually strange.”
“Huh?” Ger looked nonplussed.
Matthew banged the table “I must be tired because you two are actually funny.”
“Come to bed, Matthew,” purred Thomas.
“Mrs Robinson, I need to finish my presentation,” he groaned.
Ger chipped in “Forget it Matt, it’s chinatown.”
The apartment shook with tired laughter. Matthew broke first “Alright. Keep it down you two.”
Ger and Thomas exchanged looks as he left
“Didn’t even lock his laptop,” said Thomas, peeking at the screen.
“It’s a good thing we’re not jerks or we could sabotage his career.”
Thomas hopped off the table “Well, g’night.”
“But what about my dream?”
Thomas curled up in his basket “Tell me in the morning.”