I awoke in the dark this morning from a dream that was on the verge of getting extremely sexual. My heart was crashing against my chest and I realized that I could breathe but that the gulps of air I swallowed would not satisfy me nor the fire alarm in my chest. No matter how much I heaved the space in my lungs remained abnormally quaint. The blue room came into focus and I touched myself a little to the blue and the dream and then rolled out of bed kicking a mason jar full of water on the floor which skidded but thankfully did not fall. I showered and registered the day ahead, the coffee date after the Spanish lesson, the book to read. I have a coffee date later on, after my Spanish lesson, with someone of overwhelming sexual appeal. I am superbly curious and a little worried that we will get bored just holding teacups and talking and metaphysics. After late night coffee and cake at my apartment last night, H told me what sexuality meant to her, and I retracted my legs from where they had wandered in order to concentrate on her face as she told me. It stayed with me long after she'd walked out of the house into the night and down the hill. I ate something else and showered and moved methodically and vacantly toward sleep. I switched off a light and pickled in her words and her face until I tumbled off the cliff.