I dreamed that I was a ghost. I didn’t die; I faded away, bit by bit. I dreamed that one night when FunkyPlaid returned home from work, he had trouble hearing me. A few nights later, he accused me of hiding from him, as he could see my clothing and shoes lying about but didn’t see me.
All this time I was standing right in front of him, yelling and waving my arms.
In no time at all, I was not even a memory. I tried to pick up a lamp to throw it, because then I was sure he would know I was still there. My hand dispersed like fog as soon as it neared the solid object. I resigned myself to more yelling, but had lost the ability to make sound.
I stood in the doorway of our bedroom and watched him sleep as I silently screamed.
I woke up wailing with his arms around me.