waking from a dream (a haibun)

Things got weird in a hurry and stayed that way, even when they ultimately parachuted to a tidy conclusion. You morphed and shifted in both appearance and tone, troubled, distracted, indifferent. You were beautiful, harsh and fragile, enigmatic and impossible. Together we were awkward and unprepared: you took phone calls and flirted with my brother, who made an inexplicable cameo. I slept in a stranger’s house for an hour or so rather than making an early entrance. It was improbable and chaotic, all nerves and second-guessing. “Why is she crying?” your sister asked. “Why am I here?” I replied. Parting was classic art house fare: sleeping soundly at last, I opened my eyes and said goodbye.

waking from a dream
mist turns to rain
and back again