The Deep End - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 314

I turned and looked but I couldn't see him.
We waited.
It seemed like hours.
☼ ☼ ☼
“Hi,” Michael said, standing over me, covered in sweat.
I blinked up at him, struggling back into consciousness.
“Hey there,” I mumbled.
“I think someone fell asleep.”
He stared pointedly at the empty glasses loitering on the table beside me.
“Oh.”
I lay back, gazing at the white ceiling of the veranda, pondering my swimming pool
dream.
“You were talking in your sleep,” Michael said.
This smelled like trouble—you never knew what your subconscious would give away
when you were snoozing.
“Hmm.”
He sat down on the chair beside me.
“It was kind of strange. You said the word pool in a very disapproving way.”
“No kidding.”
“Do you remember what it was all about?”
I smoothed the towel under me nervously.
“Not the slightest idea.”
“Liar. You always remember your dreams.”
I picked up one of the empty glasses at my side, stalling for time.
“Well, just random images here and there.”
He gave me his most knowing look.
“You dreamed that we were getting a pool.”
Okay, folks. This is one of the things about being with someone for so many years. The
longer you're together, the harder it is to trick them. In other words, the price you pay for
sticking with the same person for decades is that you can never, ever tell them a convincing
lie.
This strikes me as terribly unfair.
“Well, maybe there was a pool association somewhere in the dream.”
He took a sip of his drink, peering at me over the rim of the glass.
“Do you want a pool?”
“Oh God, no!”
He recoiled slightly.
“Why not?”