When I sleep, I’m back with my ex at our last concert together. She’s behind me, dancing with Carmen. But I don’t care because I’m near the stage. I feel the press of bodies behind me. See my favorite band at the front. They’ve got this garage band vibe as the lead singer screams out to support human rights and we cheer.

Someone drunkenly throws a crushed can at her and the bassist whacks the can back like hitting a baseball with a bat and we cheer harder as the lead singer screams louder and we can’t be stopped.

I’m sweating, dancing. Not caring about anything. So different from how I am now, scared to look at my own reflection in the mirror. Terrified of my own shadow.

In this moment, I have the heat of the moment pulsing through my veins. I feel powerful. Invincible. Free. 

The crowd picks up behind me, jumping and spinning to the music. And I lock eyes with the lead singer and she smiles at me, showing off her smiley piercing right through the gums. 

She winks at me. Her piercing gleams as she sings. I blush and look away, losing myself in the fantasy a bit of someone’s attention.

I turn back. My ex and Carmen have melted into the crowd because this is my dream. 

I look to the lead singer and suddenly, she’s transparent. She has a long, flowing dress. She flies. 

“Ghost girl?” She dances across the stage and gains enough dream corporeality to lift me up with her. What she said was true. She really does dance like some goddess possesses her, something beyond the otherworldly veil. She’s freezing cold. I don’t care. I lean in close, laughing. “You’re so talented. Dance more with me, please.” 

**

“Wake up.” Ghost girl says. “Kai, wake up!”