The unusually quiet cars on City road were like tiny blood cells flowing through the artery of the city until they slowly disappeared into the night. There was nothing else outside my balcony door but moon-bleached darkness and late-November frost. The loneliness of the sky could swallow a person in whole. I rolled the blinds down.
“There is grace in being lost” – said Harry just when I turned onto my tummy, tucking my hands deep under my pillow and let the side of my face melt into the crisp white linen pillowcase. Insomnia has been a great company during the eternal nights of second lockdown so I was just trying to kill some time whilst this endless fidgeting lasted. Harry kept on telling his story in his incredibly sexy voice and I was more and more awake. It must have been around midnight already, but I decided not to check the time with Alexa.
Sleepless hours were followed by the shortest and weirdest dream that saw Brad Pitt hugging me in my old primary school’s bathroom. I can’t remember much but his fine knit blue jumper, the white tiles on the wall and the feeling I had. It was a hug that gave space to breath, yet resembled a full body human shield with strong arms gently wrapped around me. I’m unsure why my brain picked Brad Pitt’s face, but it was good enough for a Thursday night quicky. I don’t even know how I can remember feelings I had during a dream – but I so vividly did even long after I woke up.
I haven’t been in that bathroom since I was 10. I didn’t think I would even remember it.
Nights spent awake do bring back memories more often than not, though: memories of significant and less significant places, events and long-forgotten people.
“Am I lost?” – I asked myself after Harry’s heart-stubbing line. Because every time I am, I go back to where I began.