Endless Morning

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The story in this little black book might be a dream. At this point I really have no idea. I have never written in a dream, so does that make this real? The impossibility of this situation cannot be anything but a dream and yet I can cry and love and feel pain, so it must be real? If this story is real and someone reads this, then this surreal journey was beyond anything I could understand or explain.

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Something was off as I woke in a panic. Looking at my wife, I could still be dreaming; she looked so beautiful as she slept. The light was making her skin glow. That was when I realized something was wrong. I was not being kicked by little legs. Snuggling next to my wife had not happened in so long that I forgot what it was like. I snuggled closer as she rolled back into my embrace and looked into my eyes. It felt like the first time we had kissed.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“Hi.” I smiled back, “The kids are still asleep. “

Her eyes lit up and I thought we were on the same page. Kissing me lightly, she said, “Get the coffee going and I am going to do yoga in peace!”

It was so quiet without the kids awake. When I brought my wife a cup, she already had her yoga gear on. I happened to look at my dresser clock, wondering at how late the kids were sleeping. It said 8:08. After her second swig of coffee, it seemed that now I had earned my follow up passionate kiss.

She looked into my eyes again and said, “Can this moment never end? Go check on the kids. Try to keep them asleep for another hour!”

Not knowing how they managed to sleep as late as they did, I saw little hope they would sleep longer. My gnawing feeling returned. Something was off this day.

My daughter and son looked so angelic. The light from their windows was casting a golden beam on their faces. I stood motionless not wanting to wake them and still reveling in the simple wonder of sleeping through a whole night unencumbered. I loved them dearly, but I missed the time with my wife. I hesitated to move, thanking them silently for giving me the gift of sleep. As I was about to take a sip from my cup, my heartbeat stopped and the fear that I felt when I awoke came back with a shock. My cup fell slowly and shattered on the floor as I screamed for my wife. The children were not breathing.

I ran to my son’s bed as my wife ran to my daughter’s. I grabbed my son fearing the worst. Every CPR class I had ever taken fell out of my head as I pulled him into my lap, his body felt not lifeless but as if asleep. I started to remember what to do, checked for a pulse but I could not feel one though his body was warm. I brought him over to my wife who was holding and checking my daughter. I set him in her lap, as I ran to call 911.

I took my phone off the charger and realized the clock still said 8:08. Time was standing still as I could feel every beat of my heart pulsing through my body. I dialed 911 and hit send but was met with the long beeeeeeeeeep of a deactivated line. I tried again, same dead tone. I went back to my wife, noticing on my phone the time was still 8:08. This was the longest minute of my life. Not knowing what to do, I just held my family. I held them for so long I felt I surely must be dreaming.

After an eternity filled with silent tears, and a third failed call, the phone still read 8:08.

My sense of fear was slowly abating as confusion and wonder took over. Putting the children gently back to their beds. I lead my wife through the living room. Pulling the front door open we were met with the mid-morning sunshine, but the stillness we could feel in our house seemed bigger almost a crushing pressure as we stepped out onto the porch. There were no birds chirping, no rhythmic pounding of construction, nobody honking good morning to their neighbors. Nothing but silence. We both stood on the porch hand in hand taking in the stillness.

When I lit my cigarette and exhaled, the smoke did not drift away like it normally does, but rather hovered in the air like a fog. My wife held out her hand for the cigarette; a usual nonsmoker, she had to try for herself. She took a drag and exhaled, with the cloud growing around us. Drifting like the smoke we checked that the children were still in their slumber.

With dreamlike awareness I followed my feet, my wife’s hand trailing behind and my phone in my other hand. I found myself glancing at the time on my phone waiting to sprint back to the children if it changed but it did not. I found myself wandering to the corner book shop café that was down the street from our house. They had a little sign on the door that states, “We open promptly at eight because we have probably been up all-night reading.” The grey stream of smoke trailed behind us the whole way. When we arrived at the bookshop, my wife threw the cigarette down and stepped it out almost in anger. There was a penny by her foot, and she bent down to pick it up. Standing back up she handed it to me.

“Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you will have good luck.” She tonelessly said as if in a daze.

I mindlessly pocketed the coin, opened the shop door, letting us in. The café had a stagnant coffee smell, there were a few early birds at the tables and the barista was behind the counter. The scene was full of life but frozen. One customer had a cellphone to his ear and a coffee to his lips. The barista was leaning on the counter engulfed in a book but not moving a muscle. My wife wandered over to the business suit and took his coffee. Steam seemed to waft out of it as she moved the cup but then hovered in place as the cigarette smoke had. She stared at it before taking a sip, perhaps testing the dream with caffeine. I noticed a rotating stand of journals on the counter and spinning it, it seemed to revolve slower than normal. My eyes settled on a simple black Moleskin journal. I took it as well as a fancy pen. Not wanting to be a thief if this was all real, I ripped out a page from the back and wrote an IOU for the price of the book and pen, as well as the coffee and croissants my wife picked up from the plates of customers. I wrote our address and left it with the clerk. Checking my phone, it still said 8:08. Neither of us were able to find words, still thinking we were individually dreaming. I slipped the journal into my pocket, took a croissant from my wife, and took her hand in mine. In a mutual daze, we headed back to our house munching on our snacks and coffee. If this was a dream it was the best dream either of us had ever had. Silently and slowly, hand in hand we walked back to the house on an endless magical date.

Entering the house, its stillness remained. We checked on the children and they were both lying angelically in their beds. My wife and I looked in each other’s eyes, again without a word needed, headed back to our bedroom, and laid in our bed. I pulled her body into mine, being strongly aware of her every touch. We looked into each other’s eyes again in wonder, seeing each other as if for the first time. I gently put my hand to her neck. As I felt her pulse beating strongly, I found my own heartbeat jumping as it fell in place with hers. Her eyes widened in even larger amazement when she felt my neck. We kissed fiercely, biting a little, testing each other for pain. Pulling our heads back ever so slightly, but at the same time finding a way to pull our bodies closer to each other, we took a breath together for what felt like our first breath of this long minute.

“This was perfect,” She mused, “Was it a dream?”

Not knowing what to say, but not wanting this moment to end I just shook my head with an uncertain smile. I closed my eyes and I could feel her eyelashes closing against mine. We managed to snuggle all the tighter as our heartbeats and breaths harmonized into the only pulse in this still world. I could feel us falling asleep together, thinking that this was a dream and when we woke again it would all be over.

I wrote this entry in the black book I had picked up the day the time stood still. The children were still in their beds, all the clocks still said 8:08 and the smoke still lingered in the dusk on the porch. Neither of us knows what to do about this endless dream we have woke up in. Today we are going to start by taking a walk.

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I still do not know what is happening, but I have come to appreciate it. Will either of us wake tomorrow with the dream over? Maybe we are just wrapped up in our kids’ dreamland? All I know is neither my wife nor I have an answer, but every day is a beautiful dream.

In the beginning we really did not have a concept of time. Every day we would just wander farther and farther, taking food from strangers when we were hungry, always leaving IOUs, and strolling back to the house to sleep, each time we woke it was the same time.

If anyone is reading this journal, it means someone, or everyone woke up. Every day was a perfect day with my wife. I left the end of the black book blank waiting for the day the day ended. I am writing today because our journey is going to come to an end one way or another.

I am lying next to my wife as I write this with a shaky hand. These days we spend holding each other, almost too weak to move. She has grown frail but has never lost her wonderful energy.

Now I will hold her, I think, for the final time tonight. We have watched each other grow old and grey, our children always carelessly sleeping.

We hope this journal gets read. We hope our children wake and can read of our journey and live a happy life of their own. There have been many times when we have shed tears as we held them wishing them to wake and missing their sweet voices, but ultimately, we have taken solace in the fact they are safe and happy. I have left wills at all their grandparents’ houses trying to explain this bizarre dream we found ourselves in, in case they wake tomorrow. Making a habit out of picking up change on the ground every day we amassed about $20,000 that they can use to pay back our IOUs. After I type this journal entry on a typewriter, I found many years ago, I will hold my wife one last time. I will pull her in close and whisper, “Thank you for being my everything.” Closing my eyes one last time I look forward to our heartbeats slowly lilting into one great finale.