11.8

Do you know that singularly unpleasant too-hotness of a dreaming person as they lie next to you in bed, their skin radiating against you with dry heat so pitiless that you feel you must move away or die and yet you must not, since you will wake them or lose this small contact with them and either outcome is sacrelige since all you want is to protect them and preserve this moment and yet you're dreaming and suddenly the sailboat you're on is sliding on its keel on the dry land and it has slid, quite without warning, into a crowded gymnasium and you're the only one who can keep it from crashing into someone or the wall, and you're going to be in so much trouble no matter what you do?

Anyway, I do.