Day 14- your earliest memory

In the season where the shortest days of the year approach and the branches of the trees begin to look like television antennae, I sometimes wake surrounded by blackness. The dream images I remember are about unexpected meetings, reciprocated glances, caresses without preparation or purpose. A gloss of harmony lies in them. At the moment of waking I have a feeling of separation, violent, recent, as if a parting I always feared were now a fact, merely forgotten in the first hours of sleep.

If I sit up and switch on a light, everything is black in place.